


Grind Me Into Dust

by jbsullivan17



Series: Semblance of Fame [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Minor Bryan/Nathan Miller, Minor Clarke Griffin/Wells Jaha, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Musicians, Non-Consensual Drug Use, on tour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:53:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbsullivan17/pseuds/jbsullivan17
Summary: Clarke Griffin was a household name and it was like that long before her back was broken in a car accident eighteen months ago. She had the world in the palm of her hand and it disappeared when the doctors told her it was impossible for her to walk again let alone dance.Bouncing back from that diagnosis, Clarke thinks she’s ready to go back on tour. She’s a performer and it’s her life, she has a new album out and she’s going on tour for the first time as a solo artist. Will having Bellamy Blake and the rest of his band, The Delinquents, as her opener be her biggest mistake of the summer? Or will she finally find happiness and unconditional support?





	1. Ocean Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a part of HWMFM but with the length and direction that I wanted to take this, it’s a stand-alone.  
> Also, the titles are going to be song titles, from real artists who I may or may not have made a comment about in the chapter or story or used one of their songs.  
> Lastly, the songs are not mine. They will be credited and put into a Spotify playlist for anyone interested in that.  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=-il9VjMsRgSMA76OhvyWFQ

Clarke couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest heaved as Anya took a seat next to her with a sigh. “You know, you don’t have to put so much pressure on yourself with this tour. Pull an Ed Sheeran and don’t move around as much."

Clarke twisted her head so violently that anyone who wasn’t Anya, her manager for the past year, would have flinched. “I was in the hospital with a broken femur and fractured L3. The fact that I can walk is amazing.” Clarke closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. She exhaled, air leaving through her nose with practiced calm. “And I know they’ll understand if I stood around and I played guitar the entire time, but that’s not what I want this to be. This is my first tour without Raven, Finn, and Lexa, I’m terrified but I want the fans, my fans, and Silver Linings’ fans to know that I’m okay, that I’m working on being better. I’m not just proving it to myself but to them, and they’re next to impossible to impress.”

Anya’s heart of stone didn’t seem impressed with her determination. "But you don’t have to go above and beyond what your physical therapist  _ tells _ you is safe. You can break your back again bending like that.”

"This is the first rehearsal that you’re here for. Lincoln’s been here at every other rehearsal and Harper and him have been working together to make it safe for my back. I’m fine.”

"Will Dr. Griffin agree with that?” Anya asked, playing devil’s advocate.

"Definitely not. She’d have me walking around in bubble wrap for the rest of my life if she had her way,” Clarke laughed, taking a bottle of water from one of the dancers she hadn’t learned the name of yet. “Thanks,” she smiled at him. She had a whole binder of profiles for her dancers that she needed to study before the tour started.

“We have to talk openers.”

But the universe  _ loved _ throwing stones in her path, after all.

“No,” Clarke shot off, “whoever it is, no. I don’t want the label to give me some newbie who’s nervous and doesn’t know how to work a crowd.”

“Ice Nation,” said Anya.

“Absolutely not!” Clarke said in what was almost a scream. “Roan Azgeda is an asshole and I won’t have anything to do with him.”

“This is why Silver Linings broke up--that attitude.”

“Half of Silver Linings is  _ in _ Ice Nation, how would this separate me from them as I wanted?”

“Maybe play a Silver Linings song to change over from them to you?”

“No,” Clarke huffed, crossing her arms. “Absolutely not. Playing any of my old songs is just giving the fans false hope that we might get back together someday. I don’t want to do that.”

“Then find an opener that’s available and works with your sound. The label  _ needs _ to announce this tour.”

“I know.” Clarke bit her lip. “I just don’t think Ice Nation is a good match for me. Give me a list of bands that aren’t touring and I’ll pick whoever I think would fit best.”

“Some don’t want to go on tour this summer.”

“What if they do and they just don’t have the opportunity to go on tour?”

Anya rolled her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A smile curled along Clarke’s mouth.“Thank you.”

Three days later, Clarke picked a band out of a hat and just handed it to Anya without even looking at who it was. She really didn’t care who opened for her as long as they weren’t ex-Silver Linings. The thought of working with those low-lives again whisked bile in her throat. 

It turned out, ironically enough, that they would be the least of her worries when a Twitter notification woke her the following morning. Anya ran the account of course, but that didn’t stop Clarke from keeping an eye on things.

@ClarkeGriffin: _I am so excited to announce the official dates and cities for my tour along with who’s coming with me and the tour name! Head over to my InstaStory at 12 PST to find out!_ _#CGTourAnnouncement_

The first thing Clarke did was text Anya.

**CLARKE: Please tell me you have a cool design for the IG announcement.**

**ANYA: It’s like you don’t even know me sometimes.**

**ANYA: There’s a poster and everything.**

**CLARKE: Who's opening?**

**ANYA: The Delinquents**

**CLARKE: What?!**

**CLARKE: They’re nothing like me!**

**CLARKE: The frontman is...**

**CLARKE: Ugh. I can’t believe I did the whole hat thing. THIS SUCKS!**

**ANYA: I really wish you weren’t so stuck up and judgmental. What if they’re the best thing that’s happened to you musically?**

**CLARKE: They’re PUNK and I’m edge-pop, there’s a difference.**

**ANYA: You and Billie Eilish. That’s also not a genre.**

Clarke rolled her eyes then ceased, flattening her head against her pillow. The melancholic truth of Anya’s words settled within her. 

Clarke met the band a week later, having to show them the setup. She got along well with Nathan Miller, the guitarist. The bassist, John Murphy, was an asshole who was only out-assholed by their frontman, Bellamy Blake, which she’d anticipated with everything the gossip rags said about him. His sister, Octavia, was their drummer (keyword being “was”), and so they’d been looking for a new one for a couple of months. Clarke hoped with everything she had that it wouldn’t be Raven, Silver Linings’ drummer.

“Look, princess,” Bellamy said the moment Clarke demanded they not hire Raven. “I don’t want any of my past hookups here either, but we can’t always get what we want.”

“I never hooked up with Raven.”

“So it was just Finn and Lexa then?” he said, snickering. “That’s hard to believe.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Clarke with a sneer as she walked away from Bellamy who, predictably, continued trying to irritate her. Trying, at least. 

Her introduction to the band helped put things into perspective; Raven being their drummer became the furthest thing from her mind. She would tour with…  _ the Delinquents  _ could tour  _ with her _ , so long as Bellamy stayed the hell away from her. 

The MTV Movie and TV Awards were fast approaching and they wanting Clarke and Bellamy to present an award together. 

Clarke didn’t get back to either of them for days.

Being chummy with Bellamy  _ freaking  _ Blake of all people made her skin crawl, and her gut wrenched when Anya told her to grin and bear it. Being seen with Blake would hype up the fans, Anya said, get them excited about the tour, Anya said; despite the fact that the tickets were already sold out. Generating more excitement was a wasted effort. No, no, Clarke took that back because she knew better - any publicity was bad publicity really. But did she really have to stand next to Blake and…

Somehow she was standing right next to him while she replayed the question in her head, over and over again. Her brain went full auto-pilot.

“As songwriters, writing about love and falling in love is something we do often. With people, with places, with things, it happens a lot,” Clarke started, hating that Bellamy got the good line that comes next.

“And unfortunately as songwriters, finding love also comes with a lot of heartbreak. Unlike us, these movies and moments create hope for everyone, even guys like me,” Bellamy smirked and Clarke practically heard all the panties in the country drop to the floor and it was sickening.

“Here are your nominees for Best Kiss.”

The video took over and Clarke looked over her shoulder, past Bellamy to see the movies nominated.

Bellamy leaned in closer to her to get to the mic and Clarke tried her hardest not to look uncomfortable or disgusted as he said, “And the winner is...”

She looked down at the envelope he was ripping open and looked down at the movie title. “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before!” she called with him and hugging Lara and Noah was cool, listening to their speeches was cool too and unfortunately she shared the experience with Bellamy Blake.

The next week was insane, she continued pushing herself with choreography and making sure she got everything down, she started with weight training too to strengthen her back. Lincoln finally agreed to come on tour with her so she could have a physical therapist with her to keep her where she should be instead of her pushing herself too far too fast as she would. She needed someone to have her back, literally.

Bellamy was a problem. She would be rehearsing and he’d show up and judge her, pick a fight over something she was doing or something the tabloids said or her latest Instagram photo or tweet.

The tour was starting in Miami of all places, when she was last there she was in the accident and nearly died. The Resurrection Tour was meant to be a new beginning for her. Starting off her first solo tour in the place where her life crashed and burned... it was supposed to mean something other than facing her fear, facing the intersection of the accident. It’s that too but different, she’s not in the mind space that she was in when it first happened, when she was in recovery. When she lost hope.

She’s in a better place and going back to Miami was something that she needed to do, it was built up in her head like a monster and going in alone... going in with no backup was something she needed to do for herself.

“You’re standing on a street corner.”

“Yep,” she said not taking her eyes off the spot she thought she was going to die. 

“Are you going to leave it?”

“I’m trying to understand it.”

“I’m pretty sure nothing you said made any sense.”

“This is where I was hit. This is what threw me off the cliff and left me at rock bottom.”

“I thought Raven was hit by a car.”

“Her first, before we got big and then me... eighteen months ago. It’s why we broke up and they joined Roan Azgeda.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Maybe you should do your research before mocking me for working my ass off for this tour,” she spun around and glared at Bellamy, clearly not going to have the opportunity to figure out what happened that night.

“All right, Princess, is that how this is going to be for the next three months? You jumping down my throat when I ask what’s going on?”

“You didn’t ask! You assumed and that’s worse.”

“I assumed you fucked everyone in your band and that drove them away? News flash, Princess,” he sneered. “Everyone thinks that!”

“God forbid actual feelings were involved. That’s right, you don’t know what they are because you’ve never been in a relationship. Why don’t you go find the groupie of the night?”

“My sister left the band because of how I talked to her husband, I didn’t think he was good enough for her. I learned that lesson. Maybe you shouldn’t judge people based on what you read in the tabloids.”

“That’s rich coming from you and I never made assumptions about your sister. Just you being a womanizer because that’s  _ actually  _ true.”

“Maybe, but my sister came back if you hadn’t noticed and I haven’t slept with anyone since the award show.”

“Wow, a week. What a feat, I’m not impressed.”

“Trying to keep my stamina up for this tour.”

Clarke barked out a laugh, “You think not sleeping around is going to help with that? That’s not how it works, Bellamy.”

“That’s right, you were a pre-med major before getting signed. Tell me, is Dr. Griffin still not talking to you?”

“Fuck you,” Clarke spat and headed back inside the arena. She made it to soundcheck early, which only meant that Anya was there to tell her schedule for the next few days.

“You have interviews when we get to Atlanta tomorrow morning, then two shows there before we go to Nashville and do it all over again.”

“I know. I remember the tour dates that I made.”

“You  _ also _ know that Lincoln is here for any changes you feel you need with your back?”

Clarke nodded with a roll of her eyes.

“He’s also been making out with Octavia a lot.”

Clarke smirked, “-bet Bellamy hates that.”

“Oh, so you  _ do _ know they’re married.”

“No, I was hoping though. She didn’t seem like the cheating type and Lincoln’s very noble.”

“Very true. Care to tell me why Bellamy is glaring at you like you’re the devil incarnate?”

“He thinks he knows me and when he says something he shouldn’t know about, I tend to snap at him. I just came from snapping at him.”

“Are you at least going to  _ try _ and play nice during this tour?”

“If he can stop pretending like we’ve been friends for years then, sure. I’ll play nice.”

“It’s not like the tabloids make it exactly easy for the two of you to not know things about each other that neither of you wants the world to know.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it though? It goes both ways since you’re both written about in the tabloids, lied about to sell magazines and luckily half of them are false, but the things that are true, they’re the ones that really hit home for both of you.”

“So he really  _ is _ a womanizer then.”

“Or it’s a misunderstanding. I’m not saying that I know the guy, but his music and his reputation coincide with each other. He’s not just going to come out and say he’s a relationship kind of guy.”

Clarke glanced over her shoulder at Bellamy who was talking to one of the stage builders. “He’ll probably be coerced into it, and then cheat on whomever the poor sucker is, so I’m not going to apologize for snapping at him.”

Anya rolled her eyes at her and went to talk to someone about something, leaving Clarke to her thoughts, grimacing as a melody suddenly pulled at her. She  _ did _ need to be writing songs for her next album, but she’d expected to be further into the tour when they came to her, not in Miami after fighting with her opener and getting scolded by her manager about it.


	2. Better Luck Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miami brings back memories...  
> Miami is a new beginning...  
> Miami is stressful.  
> Atlanta is something else  
> And St. Louis... what exactly happened in St. Louis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote up a tour schedule for this. Thinking about making the tour poster too.
> 
> Song Credit:  
> Better Luck Next Time by Kelsei Ballerini  
> I Think I'm OKAY by Machine Gun Kelly and YUNGBLUD

Clarke needed to think. She had a new song and she’d hated it, almost as soon as it was finished. She wasn’t where she was mentally a few months ago, or where she was when writing her album, but she was feeling something and she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was, or where it came from.

She thought that it could be nerves for the concert, but she’d done them for years and it didn’t have the same excited, nervous undertone that she was used to feeling. She fought the urge to scream; not knowing what she was feeling; the best to do was put it all down on paper in a song and hope it made some semblance of sense. 

She went through soundcheck and watched The Delinquents from the back of the stadium do theirs. Clarke couldn’t wait to start this tour, wanting to get out of Miami and get into the studio again. She loved making music, not so much performing it even though she was really good at it. Her shows weren’t lackluster or boring, she gave it 110% even when she had the flu.

When the time came for her to go on stage, she was calm, the calmest she’d ever been in her life and, when she had her dancers and band huddle up for the prayer circle, she emanated that factor and some of them questioned if she were okay. “She’s great,” they’d say, “she’s just calmly gearing up for the next hour and a half of non-stop dancing eighteen months after spinal surgery. She’s fine.”

She wondered about that sometimes.

Walking on stage was something else: the darkness, the quiet crowd, the slow and steady bass drum pounding every five seconds until she was at her mark. That was how she intended on the tour starting: this song, this goodbye to who her fans were expecting, no longer the Silver Linings singer but Clarke Griffin, solo, and no one could change or take that from her.

_ “One-sided _ _   
_ _ Everything about your love was one-sided _ _   
_ _ Didn't cover it up or disguise it _ _   
_ _ You used my dream against me to tie me _ _   
_ _ To you, oh _ _   
_ _ Two years too many we tried to get it right _ _   
_ _ Hit like a shot of tequila without the lime _ _   
_ _ You've got your reasons and yeah I got my rhymes _ _   
_ _ So this time _ _   
_ _ This time _

_ “I got myself together _ _   
_ _ Got a new attitude _ _   
_ _ Hope that I see you never _ _   
_ _ I'm so over you _ _   
_ _ Got myself together _ _   
_ _ You're out of my mind _ _   
_ _ Now all that I can say is _ _   
_ _ Better luck next time _ _   
_ _ Better luck next time” _

It wasn’t like Clarke had  _ written  _ the song as a farewell to Silver Linings, but when the lyric came to mind in the second verse, Clarke couldn’t help but make it that. It was a breakup song and that’s what the band had done. Clarke hadn’t thought about anyone in the band while writing it, she might as well have been.

_ “We tried it _ _   
_ _ But when two hearts don’t light up you can’t fight it _ _   
_ _ And in every storm, there’s still silver linin’ _ _   
_ _ And with every day that passes I find it” _

The song was supposed to be about her back, about how broken and depressed she got during the recovery process. Forget that she’s been through a massive trauma that could have killed or disfigured her and she somehow made it out unscathed.

_ “I got myself together _ _   
_ _ Got a new attitude _ _   
_ _ Hope that I see you never _ _   
_ _ I’m so over yo _ _   
_ _ Got myself together _ _   
_ _ You’re out of my mind _ _   
_ _ Now all that I can say is _ _   
_ _ Better luck next time _

_ "Blame on mistakes _ _   
_ _ But we had to roll the dice _ _   
_ _ Now all that I can say _ _   
_ _ Is better luck next time _ _   
_ _ Yeah _ _   
_ _ Better luck next time _

_ “I got myself together _ _   
_ _ Got a new attitude _ _   
_ _ Hope that I see you never _ _   
_ _ I’m so over you _ _   
_ _ Got myself together _ _   
_ _ You’re out of my mind _ _   
_ _ Now all that I can say is _ _   
_ _ Better luck next time" _

The rest of the night left her with a pleasant headiness, not at all to do with the tiny smile on Bellamy’s face from the side of the stage while she performed. 

“Hey, Atlanta, we’re on with recording artist, Clarke Griffin, whose  _ Resurrection Tour _ is completely sold out! Except, we have a pair of tickets for tonight’s concert that we’re giving away right NOW! Here’s how it’s going to work, we’re going to ask you a question about a Clarke Griffin rumor and if you’re right, you’re going to the concert. If you’re wrong, well then we move on to the next caller. Y’all know the number, dial in, I’m looking for caller number one hundred.”

“Clarke, how do you feel about some of your dirty laundry being aired?” Andre asked while they waited for the hundredth caller.

“I thought when I agreed to this I’d be nervous, but I’m feeling good.”

“Is that because the reviews on last night’s concert are calling you every synonym for brilliant?”

“Partly,” Clarke smiled. “But I like not having old secrets bound up and restricting what I say sometimes so it’s good… cathartic even.”

“Awesome! Alright, caller 100, what’s your name?”

“Monica.”

“Hi, Monica,” Clarke said, trying to smile.

“Hi,” was her reply, her voice quiet.

“Sweetie, don’t be nervous, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“All right, Monica, what’s Clarke Griffin’s favorite color?”

“Uh, purple?”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said, laughing, “it’s always been green. Is that seriously a rumor?”

“It was in  _ Tiger Beat _ and  _ Just Jared _ .”

“Weird.”

“Next caller, what’s your name?”

“Blake,” a deep voice answered. Clarke grimaced. It was Bellamy; of course, he was going to call in and fuck with her.

“What kind of pet did Clarke Griffin have?”

“A dog named Bowie.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke said and all she heard was laughter.

“Yeah, you got me, princess," he said, practically sneering through the speaker. " See you tonight at soundcheck.”

The line went dead and Andre looked at her. “That was Bellamy Blake calling in to bust your balls?”

“Yep,” she popped the p. “He’s annoying like that.”

That made the host coo with delight. “I want to delve into that, “but later, we’re playing a game. Next caller?”

“Hi, I’m Josie.”

“Hi, Josie. Who was the first member of Silver Linings that Clarke was in a relationship with?”

“Finn.”

“No, actually," Clarke smiled, knowing that this was definitely going to stump everyone and no one was going to get it even though her answer might technically be cheating. "Before we were signed, we had a keyboardist named Riley that was my first musician relationship. He and I wrote a lot of songs together and it just happened. He didn’t want the fame, just songwriting so he didn’t join the band but he’s written some of our songs and some for other artists too. He’s still a close friend.”

“Interesting. Next caller.”

“Hey, Clarke! I’m Nick.”

“Hi.”

“Nick, what broke up Silver Linings?”

“Clarke being a hoe.”

“Wow, not even remotely close.” She reached over and ended the call. “Next caller, same question.”

“Hi, I’m Hannah. Silver Linings broke up because of the car accident last November in Miami.”

“That’s not the only reason, but it’s one. A big one, I’m going to give it to her.”

The squeal from the other end of the line made her face scrunch with pained amusement.

“All right, Hannah! You’re going to the  _ Resurrection Tour _ tonight, stay on the line.”

“Congratulations,” Clarke went on, unbidden. The world wanted to know the truth about her, after all, so she didn’t feel she needed permission. “So for anyone who doesn’t know, I was in a car accident eighteen months ago and was nearly paralyzed, but the doctors I had were amazing and in six months I was back on my feet and working on getting back to where I was physically before the accident. Every day is still a challenge. I wake up some days with numb toes and sometimes it doesn’t stop tingling for hours. If I stumble on stage during a performance or fall because my legs gave out, I’m not going to beat myself up over it like I used to. My team and I have every scenario thought out and even though I want my concerts to be big, fun, and epic, even if I need to slow down and take a breath, sit down for a few songs I’m going to. Unless I’m unconscious, I’m not going to end the show.”

“The show where Bellamy Blake’s band is headlining.”

Her eyes narrowed briefly. “I see what you’re doing. No, there’s nothing going on between me and Bellamy or any of The Delinquents,” she said, measuring her voice. “I’m happily single and just figuring out who I am without the complications of someone new.”

“That sounds very healthy.”

“I may have had some help figuring that out from a therapist while I was in rehab.”

“Rehab?”

“Yeah. The accident caused serious damage to my back, spine. Had to relearn how to walk, dance, run, jump, literally  _ every _ thing. It was a process and talking about it with someone made it easier.”

She paused.

“I learned a lot about myself in the process.”

After Bellamy’s little phone call to the radio interview, the mere idea of Bellamy annoying her turned their fans on. Requests filled their mailboxes, asking them to do interviews together, suggesting ship names and baby names. Clarke wouldn’t have cared, if not for the arrogant, egotistical jackass who kept calling her “princess” every chance he got that they paired her with.

She agreed to do it, and it was like two dogs fighting over a bone for the whole ride.

They fought like there was no tomorrow in Nashville, bit each other’s heads off in Houston, pissed in each other’s Cheerios in Dallas. Reluctantly made some common ground in Kansas City and, now, they were in St. Louis talking to Ricky. 

“Clarke, your tour is a  _ huge _ hit! What made you choose  _ The Delinquents _ as your openers?”

Always quick on her feet, Clarke replied, “You know, I have always been a fan since  _ Dog Days  _ came out. I was listening to it non-stop and my friends were trying to get me to focus on the song I was in the middle of writing. We had a whole album waiting for this song and I just couldn’t get  _ Dog Days _ out of my head.”

Nobody needed to know that her manager had practically twisted her arm over it after she’d picked a name out of a hat.

“Really? Sing me a lyric,” Bellamy challenged with a look of disbelief, but she knew how it sounded on the radio, playful and intimate. A little too much, even.

_ “It’s the long hot dog days _ _   
_ _ That makes me want to scream your name _ _   
_ _ To call you back _ _   
_ _ Have the last laugh _ _   
_ _ Get one last touch _ _   
_ _ One more kiss goodbye _ _   
_ __ And I’ll be done.”

Bellamy’s face was an embarrassing screenshot waiting to be taken. She resisted pulling out her phone and snapping one. “Honestly, I didn’t think you knew it,” he said after an awkward moment of silence as he just stared at her with a new sense of knowing.

“I was in a relationship at the time and it just happened to come on.”

“Which one?”

“Shut up.”

“That usually means it’s Finn,” he smirked at Ricky.

“No, it doesn’t.” She frowned. “Don’t see how my past love life matters anyway.”

“Opposed to the non-existent current one.”

“You’re one to talk, you haven’t been with anyone since the tour started.”

“I’m saving my virtue for someone special,” Bellamy deadpanned. A laugh slipped out of her before he continued, “alright, Alright. You’re right, she’s right. I haven’t been my usual self on tour and I’m not saying it’s because I have someone waiting for me at home or because I’m working on myself like this one over here, but I just haven’t been feeling it this tour.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “We’re only two weeks in, there’s plenty of time for him to change his mind about that,” she said, unaware of the smile forming on her face.

They finished up the interview and had the rest of the day off from tour; she could have gone back to LA, or maybe New York, but she really wanted to curl up on a lounge chair and read a good book.  _ The Sadness of Beautiful Things: Stories _ , a novel by Simon Van Booy, had been calling her name for a few weeks now. She’d had a hard copy on the bus but the time was just never there. The hotel had a pool lounge, but she cringed every time she neared it. With the book in her hand, she passed an open hotel room door and listened to the familiar sound of a guitar being plucked. She knew better, but the melody carried her, feet wandering past the threshold to where the melody came from.

There, she found Bellamy Blake with his eyes closed and playing a melody that made her ears tingle. Somehow, in spite of the tabloids, gossip columns, and general rumors off the professional grapevine - she hadn’t known that he could play the guitar.

“That’s beautiful,” she said before she realized what she was doing.

His fingers froze as his eyes snapped open. “Thanks,” he grimaced before grabbing his phone and pressed a few buttons on the screen. “What’s up?”

“I was just going to read on my balcony. Are you writing a song?”

“That’s typically what people do when they’re playing guitar. Alone.”

“You  _ never _ play on stage, you could just be learning," Clarke countered.

Bellamy laughed. “No, my sister had anger issues growing up and to pay for her drum lessons, I would do some house cleaning or yard work for her teacher, whatever he needed for the week. He had a guitar lying on his porch one afternoon, and I was just finishing up and going to talk to him about something and instead of knocking on the front door, I picked up the guitar. I played before I knew I could sing.”

“That’s... a nice story that people should know.”

“People don’t want to know about the boy who did everything he could to keep his sister out of trouble.”

“Of course they do. No offense, but maybe if you showed this side of you more you’d come off less like a womanizing asshole. Maybe we could write something together too.”

“With this?” he asked, plucking the guitar strings again in the same melody.

“I mean, I had an idea with it, but it’s up to you.”

“I couldn’t think of any words so, if you did, go ahead.”

She laughed with more mirth than intended. “People will go crazy if we release something together, you know that.”

“They’re already going crazy over Bellarke and the label’s leaning into it, why shouldn’t we?”

“‘Bellarke’?”

“Our ship name.”

“It’s a derivative; Bell means 'beautiful' and ark means 'ship'. We’re quite literally a beautiful ship.”

“I mean,” he widened his arms in an obvious gesture and she smirked, getting what he meant, but she rolled her eyes trying not to blush.

“You’re serious?”

“About writing a song with you?” He shrugged. “Sure.”

“It’s a little edgier than my style.”

“Which is my style, what’s the lyric?”

“I’d ask if you’re good with singing about drugs and alcohol, but you wrote three songs on your last album with Jasper Jordan so I know my answer.”

“The Princess is getting  _ that _ far away from her roots?”

“Been pretty far from them for a while. So that melody…”

Bellamy blinked and shot up, gearing up for a proper writing session. “Right. I record on my phone so I can remember the chords and write them down later. It’s my process. Want to hear it?”

“Yeah,” Clarke said with a smile, and came into the room, pushing the door closed.

Bellamy tapped his phone screen a few times. The song started and Clarke nodded, coming up with lyrics for different parts, and hashing out which parts should be his and what could be hers--if she actually agreed to collaborate with him. Writing a song was one thing, performing it was completely different.

The recording cut off with her walking into the room and Clarke knew that he was annoyed that she interrupted him but was probably grateful that she’s helping him with the lyrics he was stumped on.

“Play it again,” Clarke asked as she brought Voice Memos up on her own phone recording their ideas and Bellamy pressed play.  _ “Watch me take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night/ Catch me I’m the one on the run away from the headlights/ bum bum, dun bud-ump bum buh um bah dum bum duh-duhh/ I think something’s fucking wrong with me!” _

Bellamy paused his phone and Clarke looked up at him waiting.

“You’re going to sing  _ that  _ to your fans?”

“No, I think  _ you’re _ going to sing that… I think my part is somewhere later, if anywhere at all.”

“If we write a song together, we’re both going to perform it or I’m not doing it.”

Clarke huffed, “Fine.”

“Cool. I’m going to try that,” he said picking up his guitar and Clarke began recording on her phone again.  _ “Watch me take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night/ Catch me I’m the one on the run away from the headlights/ No sleep, up all week wasting time with people I don’t like/ I think something’s fucking wrong with me!” _

Her legs wobbled as Bellamy repeated the lyrics to her. She blinked and gave him an approving look, hoping that she’d straightened before his eyes went back to her.

“That was great. I like the no sleep line.”

“It’s getting late so I figured it could be something like that and it would fit.”

The acknowledgment meant almost nothing. Clarke didn’t check the time again until it was three in the morning, and she’d only done that because she’d idly thought to call her manager to have her book them a recording studio. “I should, uh, get to my room. I’m honestly surprised Anya didn’t blow up my phone looking for me.”

“I texted Miller about an hour in and told him that we were in the zone and couldn’t be bothered.”

She folded her arms and exhaled. “And let me guess, he made a snarky remark…”

“Actually no, I think he was just proud that I let someone into my writing process.”

“You write alone?”

“Yeah. Me and my guitar. The only part that I let others in on are the instruments that they play. The lyrics are mine.”

“I didn’t know that. I kind of see everything, all the instruments and what odd ones I want to add in like the flute in that one song…”

“ _ Give My All _ ?”

“Yeah,” Clarke yawned.

“You can stay if you want, I can sleep on the floor.”

“I’m just down the hall.”

“At the other end of the hotel,” he noted, concerned.

“I think I can walk a straight line at three AM after songwriting, Bellamy.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Clarke opened the door and looked down the long hallway. She went still for a moment, considering. It did seem a pretty long walk.

She sighed, closing the door. “You're right.”

Bellamy bit back a smile as Clarke closed the door.

“We can share the bed, we have all night already, what’s a few more hours?”

“Do you want a pair of my boxers to sleep in? I don’t have sweat pants up here to offer you.”

Clarke looked at her tight skinny jeans and thought of her lace panties underneath. “Yes, please.”


	3. I Reckon She Was Only Looking for a Lover to Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's POV waking up to Clarke in his bed...  
> They go to Chicago and Bellamy learns something new about the headliner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New songs added to the Spotify playlist (Note: all the "softer" songs have an alternative twist for this to work):  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=Ojuf0FGAR9mtoPI4i7jDnA

Waking up next to Clarke Griffin was probably the best thing Bellamy had ever decided to do. The erection pressing against the lining of his boxers said as much. He stared at her, fighting the urge to get a full look at Clarke’s “morning” face.

Slipping out of bed he called for room service and ordered pancakes for them with all the fixings and espressos, knowing that they were her downfall from the last two weeks on the road. Just like he knew that Mike and Ike’s were the only thing to soothe Murphy’s stomach after a night of partying and Miller had to have three bags of Taki’s on him at all times and Octavia… Octavia needed to punch something at least once an hour.

He grabbed a pair of boxers and jeans so that he didn’t scare Clarke if she woke up while he was in the shower and headed into the bathroom. The water went on; he was naked, underneath the stream of water and washing himself, trying not to think about how thin the walls were.

Failing, he fell against the wall, biting his hand as his other hand jerked at his hard cock, hoping the water cascading over him was enough to drown out his perverted thoughts of her and loud enough for her not to hear him at all.

When he finally came with a shuttered breath, he stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and realized that he’d left the door wide open. “Fuck,” he muttered and grabbed a small towel to shake the water out of his hair, throwing on fresh boxers and jeans and strolling back into the bedroom.

He wasn’t the only one getting dressed apparently. He glanced away as she jumped and fell back onto the bed, flailing until she was completely on her back. Pink lace and pale legs.

“Hey,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him before turning back around quickly and stood, pulling her jeans on. “I should get going.”

He looked directly at her. “I ordered us room service.”

“You did?” her eyes, beady as they were, widened.

“Yeah, pancakes, eggs, bacon... espresso.”

Pink lace and pale, beautiful legs. The image was burnt into his retinas.

Clarke’s smile was small but it was there as she looked to the ground. “Okay. Do you want to go over the song one more time with fresh eyes?”

“You don’t have to stay, but you should definitely grab one of the espressos when it gets here.”

“Do you not want me to stay?”

“Sure, but you have things to do today that you didn’t do yesterday with Anya, right?”

“Kind of.” She shrugged. “There was an interview with Cosmo that I was supposed to do for their August issue. I’m on the cover. I already did the photoshoot in LA.”

Bellamy nodded. “So you need to do that before soundcheck today.”

“Yes.” Her eyes darted to her phone when it started vibrating on the nightstand.

“If you want to wait five minutes, the espresso should be here and, if that doesn’t take too long, we can go over the song one more time.”

Clarke nodded and grabbed her phone. “Hey, Anya… No, Bellamy and I were writing a song and it got late and we fell asleep… Of course, I’m going to be there, I just need coffee and a shower.”

There wasn’t the slightest hint of shame on Bellamy’s face as he studied her there, sitting on his bed, in his suite, chatting. Pink lace, pale legs, and a gorgeous face to complete the package. The crush he’d had on her for the past two months was, in his mind at least, at last justified.

Clarke hung up and grabbed the guitar from the chair in the corner of his hotel room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Bellamy blinked and went to his backpack, pulled out a tan t-shirt and put it on before grabbing his guitar from her. “This will sound better with an electric and some awesome drums.”

“Octavia is able to do that, right?”

“She's almost as good as  Travis Barker .”

That tiny, insignificant smile again. “I’m definitely going to have to write some songs with her while on this tour,” said Clarke.

“You definitely should.”

A knock on the door snapped Bellamy out of his thoughts, most of them being how to keep Clarke Griffin from leaving his room, or how to convince her to come back later. Room service had arrived, so he grabbed a twenty from his wallet and tipped the guy at the door, pushing the food cart into the room then closing the door behind him.“Breakfast.”

As luck would have it - convincing Clarke to stay a little while longer wasn’t as difficult as he’d imagined.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Miller said as they were waiting for soundcheck in a minute.

Bellamy blinked. “What?”

“That’s his ‘I met a girl’ look,” Octavia said, twirling a drumstick between her fingers.

“My what?” he grimaced.

“You met someone and you’re distracted, so it’s someone who will screw a lot of things up if it goes wrong.”

“Or maybe I’m basking in the glory of a newly finished song.”

“Wait, what?” Murphy exclaimed. “You found words?”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t written a song since their last album two years ago, maybe losing Gina was the worst thing that could have happened to his career. Her death was too tragic, too traumatic and he locked it up until Clarke came in and brought “I Think I’m OKAY” with her. Neither of them is but maybe they can be… maybe they could help each other.

“I had help.”

“As I said, a lady,” Octavia prodded him, both with one of her drumsticks and with her words. 

“Nope, if anything a writing partner. This is going to be our best song yet and we’re recording it in Chicago.”

“Wait, she just... gave it to you?”

“No, she’s in on it.”

“Wait… Clarke?”

Bellamy nodded. “The concept was her idea and it’s pretty great. Exactly what I needed to break me out of my two-year funk.”

“When did you two start talking instead of arguing?”

“When she walked into my room with a song idea yesterday afternoon. Miller didn’t tell you guys?”

“Woah, don’t bring me into this, I barely knew what you texted me. ‘Tell Anya that Clarke’s busy writing and not to be disturbed.’ I did, but you didn’t say anything about you writing with her.”

Bellamy grimaced.

* * *

“Hey,” Clarke said, smiling at him as they were coming off stage for soundcheck.

“Hey.”

“Anya booked us a studio for the morning of the first to record. We should practice the thirtieth as soundcheck and get their thoughts on their parts in.”

“I’ll play them the recording now and they can start thinking up what they want to do. You can direct them tomorrow and they should have it down by the time we record. This is happening really fast.”

“Yeah, the label wants us to release the song on the eighth, during your Good Morning America concert.”

“They’re really working this whole Bellarke thing, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, I have  _ never  _ seen them jump so fast on a song where I curse. They’re more restrictive with me because of Disney.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Wait, the GMA concert is during your Z100 interview.”

“I texted Elvis Duran about postponing an hour and told him why and he wants you in it. Pike agrees.”

Bellamy nodded. “It's going to be an insane day if we do that.”

“It was going to be an insane day regardless, I’m on Today the next morning so that’s going to be something too.”

“Performing?”

“No, an interview about the album and…  _ The Come On _ .”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“It’s a movie,” she explained. “Premieres Friday, but I can’t be there so I’m pumping people up to see it in New York. ”

“You ventured into acting?”

“I’m in five scenes and half of them I sing. It was supposed to be more but…” her words hung there, but she shook lightly and went on. “They rewrote the script to have me written out of the second half. Anyway, it’s a pretty good movie.”

“With a pornographic title.”

Clarke smirked. “They were definitely leaning into that side of the movie.”

“Are you…”

“No, though I assume double-D’s would make any guy want to see a movie.”

“What?” Bellamy said, a little breathless as his eyes dipped to her chest before then returned with almost professional grace. 

He’d almost expected a slap, but it never came.

“Exactly. Sex sells.”

“Yeah, it does. They’re waiting for you.” He nodded his head to the stage and he swore he saw a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. Curious.


	4. PILLOWTALK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recording in Chicago and some fun in Philadelphia...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTINUITY ERROR: Ryan Seacrest records KIIS FM out of LA so I changed Clarke's radio interview to Z100 with Elvis Duran in New York City. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=9Z0KWb4PRiKgiNvGuBJEdA)

Clarke didn’t know what to take away from Bellamy anymore. He flirted and then he was dismissive, he was attentive and distant. What did he want? She thought he wanted her, he held her tight when they slept— _just_ slept—together and they wrote a song together, which is an intimate thing but there was something about him today at soundcheck where he was going back and forth between flirting and dismissing her, sending her to do her soundcheck.

After the show, they drove to Chicago, separately, in their own buses and Clarke missed sleeping next to someone. She missed being held and warm and protected, even though she panicked when she first felt him grab her waist. She calmed when she realized he was asleep, but the panic of someone feeling her scars, of Bellamy freaking out over their hideousness was strong.

Clarke hated how she reacted, hated her dysmorphia from the car accident and she knew it was something that she needed to work on with her therapist, but she didn’t want to make it a bigger deal than it was. She can manage it with the pantyhose and bodysuits she wore for her concerts and the jeans and sweatshirts she wore for interviews, but sleeping next to someone she disliked and now… well, she didn’t know how she felt aside from rejected and that was a problem. It shouldn’t have been a problem, she knew she was hot, she just wasn’t Bellamy’s type. The problem was that his type was never decided upon in the magazines and tabloids. He’s a player without a preferred flavor and Clarke needed to know what he liked.

“That’s a lot of thinking for a mostly written song,” Octavia said in the middle of Murphy recording a riff.

“Just listening.”

“Bullshit. I don’t know what happened when you wrote this with my brother, but you’re both different.”

“Nothing happened. We wrote and fell asleep.”

“You slept together?”

“Uh… yeah? Just sleep, we didn’t…”

“I wasn’t going to suggest anything.”

“What are you two talking about?” Bellamy asked, leaning back in his rolling chair to look at them on the couch.

“Nothing,” they said together and that really solidified their lack of innocence.

“Right. Clarke, you ready to sing?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she smiled and stood, finding Murphy putting his bass in its case already. They’re all really good at their jobs apparently.

She and Bellamy headed into the booth and she knew that this was the part that took forever, Clarke getting her voice to do what she wants it to do, for this song especially, there’s this rasp in her voice that disappears when she sings but hopefully she can draw it out for this song and it will be exactly what she wanted.

* * *

After playing two shows in Chicago, they went to Detroit and played one. Another in Baltimore before having a day off in Philadelphia for Independence Day, Bellamy wanted to drag as many people around the historic city to see all the history but no one wanted to go with him. Clarke’s been avoiding him and he wasn’t actively seeking her out either, it was like the whole night that they wrote _I Think I’m OKAY_ didn’t happen, and that he didn’t see her scar when he walked in on her changing back into her jeans.

She was working out on the morning of the Philly concert, extremely early, too early to call Lincoln to help with her back, so she was doing some light cardio and working on her arms, when she heard someone clear their throat over the music she was blasting from her phone and turned it down from her watch when she found Bellamy standing over her.

“Is your back okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m not working on anything that would really hurt me so I’m good. Thanks for asking.”

“Why are you up so early?”

“Camera phones exist and I don’t want my workout on TMZ. I also couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you stay up for the fireworks?” he asked, sitting at the machine next to her and adjusting it to his preferred weight and Clarke turned her head so she wouldn’t see any of it, the weight he could lift or how his biceps looked while he’s doing it.

“Yeah, I watched from my balcony, it’s awesome having a manager that knows exactly what you want.”

“Are you telling me that I need a better manager?” he asked, grunting at the end.

“I mean, I don’t know what you want so I can’t tell if your manager is good or not.”

Bellamy chuckled before grunting again and if Clarke peeked at the mirror in the corner of her eye, she would be able to see the reflection of his muscles in the mirror. She didn’t, she wouldn’t, and she has self-control.

She moved on to the elliptical where Bellamy was clear out of view and after a few minutes he came up next to her on the treadmill, immediately going into a brisk run.

She didn’t want to look at him, she knew that’s what he was aiming for but seeing him hot and sweaty, building up his stamina and strength was not what she needed if she was trying to move past whatever initial attraction she had that wasn’t reciprocated and on top of that, he wasn’t interested. That’s been mostly clear.

“Is everything okay? I thought with the song we’d stop coming at each other but frankly, ignoring me is worse.”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“No? You haven’t even looked at me since I walked in and we’re the only two people here, it’s bound to happen.”

“I’m focusing, I can’t strain my back. Dancing around the stage is too much as it is.”

“Have you told that to Lincoln or Anya?”

“No, and you’re not going to either. I know what they’re going to say, but with New York this weekend, I can’t tell them. I’ll take a break after Good Morning America with you, the first one, I’ll stand around like Anya wanted, but I need to act like everything’s okay tonight.”

Because she refused to look at him, Clarke didn’t realize that Bellamy had gotten so close to her, she didn’t know that he was right behind her when she slowed down the elliptical and turned to get off, jumping at the sight of him behind her. “Jesus, what are you doing?”

“Have you done yoga?” he asked as his eyes roamed over Clarke’s face, causing her to heat up more than her work out did.

“I tried years ago and it didn’t do anything for me.”

“These are different circumstances, this could help your back.”

“Lincoln did suggest it. I don’t remember the stances or anything.”

“That’s okay, I do. There’s a yoga room.”

Bellamy turned and Clarke followed him to one of the doors in the back corner of the gym, walking in the room was well lit and Clarke smiled at the two designated areas for clean and dirty yoga mats, the hotel washes them. She grabs a blue one and watched Bellamy grab a black one and they pulled them out next to each other and Bellamy raddled off names and showed Clarke the stance before she did it herself and Bellamy’s gravely voice echoed through the small space, reverberating in Clarke’s head and traveled down through her body, creating an embarrassing wet spot between her thighs.

The moment Clarke realized what was happening, it was too late, she was in downward dog and Bellamy went to her to adjust her stature when his low, soothing voice suddenly stopped and Clarke knew that Bellamy knew that the timbre of his voice got her so fucking wet that she soaked through her panties and leggings.

“Um,” his voice dropped impossibly lower and Clarke felt a whole new amount of wet heat spill out of her. “Lean your hips back more, you’ll feel it more in your shoulders.”

Clarke moves a little, feeling it in her shoulders like he said and asked if it was better, faintly hearing Bellamy’s intake of breath.

“More like this,” he said touching her hips gingerly, like she was going to break (she very well could) and adjusted her stance.

“I’m not going to break.”

“Good to know,” he growled and pulled his hands away.

Clarke grimaced as Bellamy went back to telling her what positions would help her back and it was actually helpful, not that she didn’t think it would be. Her back should be stronger, even though it hurt but that was because she was putting on a show for her fans and that’s work.

When they were done, Clarke turned to look at Bellamy after rolling up her mat to put in the wash basket but Bellamy wouldn’t look at her. “I made you so uncomfortable that you can’t even look at me?”

“Please, don’t,” Bellamy said, his hand on the doorknob that would take them back out to the weights and machines.

“Don’t what? Be real about it? Your voice telling me what to do turned me on and I’m not ashamed of it. You think it doesn’t make me uncomfortable? I have to spend the next two months with you knowing that your voice can turn me on.”

He was so quick, Clarke didn’t even register that he was kissing her until she felt the cool concrete wall against her back. Parting her lips for him, Bellamy took full advantage of that and their tongues danced together.

Bellamy’s hands were on her waist under her shirt and Clarke was desperate for him, the more he talked, the more she craved. It wasn’t exactly a problem, until he made it real and now she can’t just stop them because she’s desperate for him.

“Please,” she uttered, not certain of it’s coherence when Bellamy’s lips trailed down her jaw to her neck.

“What do you want, babe?”

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” she said and Bellamy pulled back to look her in the eyes.

“I don’t have a condom, but I’m clean.”

“Me too and I have an IUD.”

“Are you saying—“

“Take your pants off before I change my mind,” Clarke growled, yanking her own leggings and panties down before watching Bellamy who was half done himself.

Once naked from the waist down, Bellamy pulled his shirt over his head and Clarke suddenly felt self conscious, if she took off her shirt, he would see the scars and everything that she went through. He could think she was ugly and change his mind and she didn’t want that, she didn’t need it when she was this wanton and craved everything he could give her.

Bellamy being oblivious to her freak out, leaned down and kissed her. “Are you sure?”

“I want to fuck you, yeah.”

He smiled and lifted her by her legs and held her between him and the wall. “The door doesn’t lock, we’re going to have to be quick.”

Her arms wrapping around his shoulders, Clarke smirked, “Then make me come.”

“With pleasure,” he smiled wickedly before kissing her long and deep and languidly. Jolting her with the shock of him slipping inside her, maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been with a man in years, but Bellamy felt huge. The way he stretched her out, the way he paused with care when he heard her little mewl of pain, letting her adjust before pounding into her with reckless abandon as his mouth worked her throat as he simultaneously told her that he was about to come and that she needed to so he could.

“More,” she managed to whimper out and Bellamy groaned. He pulled down her shirt and sports bra, releasing her left breast and immediately latched his mouth over her nipple, his tongue working sinful magic on her sensitive breast. Exactly what she needed to go over the edge. “Don’t stop. Bellamy, please!” she called as she came.

He released her nipple and went back to her neck, breathing heavily as he pumped in and out of her, still clinging to the edge. “I’m gonna—“ he breathed just before Clarke felt his molten seed shoot into her.

Bellamy dropped his head to her shoulder as he tried catching his breath. He readjusted her bra and shirt before letting her down. She immediately pulled on her underwear and leggings to hide her scars and when she looked back at Bellamy, he looked disappointed.

“Did you not enjoy yourself?” She asked knowing full well that he did, the proof pooling in her panties as she asked.

“I would have liked to see you.”

“Oh. I… you said to be quick because the door doesn’t lock.”

“I know, I just didn’t think that you wouldn’t let me see any part of you.”

“I’m sorry but we should get going. I’ll see you later?”

Bellamy grimaced, picking up his sneakers before he yanked the door open and stormed out.

* * *

He avoided her at sound check that afternoon and he didn’t stay for her show, well, Octavia told her that and apparently he usually did, he liked seeing what song she was covering for the night. She didn’t know that and maybe if she did, she could have picked something about him and how she felt. He’s really mad and she couldn’t blame him, she essentially used him and didn’t consider his feelings or wants. He wanted to see her and that was her biggest fear, people seeing her scars.

 _Really, Griffin? The scars are your biggest fear?_ She heard Wells’ voice. _What about the truth?_

Clarke sighed, that would be worse.

_Wow, I love you too._

_You know what I meant, Wells. People wouldn’t understand._

_No, but they blame me for your injury, you never changed their mind. The dead guy as your scapegoat, convenient._

_That’s not how I think of it. You didn’t mean to, you were my… I was grieving you and not being able to preform, I couldn’t just say that it wasn’t your fault three months after people being fully convinced that’s what happened._

_You’re arguing with yourself._

_Shit, then go away._

Clarke looked up and Bellamy was watching her down the hall after the show. He had his acoustic in his hand and Clarke immediately thought of a song that they could write together. But he turned and headed out the back door and she still had all her stuff to grab.

“Are you okay?” Miller asked as she was packing up, the door to her green room wide open.

“If Bellamy told you to ask me…”

“He didn’t, you just looked off onstage tonight.”

“Because I messed up.”

“With Bellamy?”

“Yeah, we got into a fight I think. I don’t know, he won’t even look at me now.”

“Bellamy’s hard on the people he cares about and him caring about you is a good thing. He’s difficult to get a handle on but once you do and he outwardly shows that he cares, then you get to see the real him.”

“You mean he’s not an asshole?” Clarke joked. She knew he wasn’t an asshole, an asshole wouldn’t show her yoga that would help her with her back, which she still had to talk to Lincoln about.

“No, he’s still an asshole but he cares and you know it.”

“He helped my back this morning. Talked me through yoga.”

“Yeah, Clarke, he cares about you. And if you fought about something fixable, then fix it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“If you care, then maybe it could be.”

“Could you send him to my bus? I know we’re leaving in an hour but I want to try fixing it.”

“You should ask him yourself, but I will because he seems pretty pissed.”

“Do you think he will?”

“I think he cares about you and will want to know whatever it is you want to say, but I also think that you should go to him. Not have him go to you.”

“I don’t want you and Murphy and Octavia knowing what’s going on. And he might get stuck on my bus and there’s more room for him if he was on mine. You guys are pretty cramped.

“Yeah, Bellamy gave Octavia and Lincoln the master in the back and we’re in the bunks.”

“Don’t you have a studio on board?”

“That’s in the bottom bunk under Murphy. It’s mostly rough cord projections and Bellamy trying to figure out lyrics. He mixes on his laptop sometimes.”

“He can DJ too?”

Miller scoffed, “Yeah, but his music taste isn’t what you’d expect. Anyway, I should go and so should you. I’ll tell Bellamy you’d like to talk to him.”

Clarke nodded and thanked Miller and they walked together to the exit where the buses are getting ready to take them to New York for the weekend, where they’re going to premiere their song together and Clarke would really like to be back on speaking terms when they do.

She walked over to her bus and said goodbye to Miller, thanking him again and she was getting settled back into her bunk in the back of her bus, passing Anya and her incessant mothering over Clarke’s back which she won’t say that it’s hurting because Bellamy’s yoga helped. Maybe the sex helped too.

She was changing when there was a knock on her door and Anya peeked in, she’s been working with Clarke so much that she was essentially an extension of Clarke and being naked around Anya didn’t mean anything… anymore.

“Bellamy’s here. He said he was ‘summoned’.”

“Yeah, uh, give me a minute to get dressed and you can send him back,” Clarke said and grabbed the first pair of leggings she could find that wasn’t from that morning and pulled on a sports bra too before another knock landed on her door.

“Just a second!” she called and yanked a t shirt over her head before opening the door to find Bellamy with a hard grimace. “Hi, come in. Did Anya offer you water?”

He lifted his hand revealing a half drunk beer in his grasp.

“Right, can I explain this morning?”

“It’s taken you sixteen hours to even acknowledge my annoyance so am I supposed to even believe what you’re going to tell me?”

“I don’t lie to people.”

Bellamy scoffed, “You lied plenty when asked about who you were dating.”

“Because that’s nobody’s business but mine and my partner’s. You wanted to see me and I didn’t let you, so can you please let me explain?”

“Fine,” Bellamy grimaced, leaning back against her door, waiting.

“I was in a car accident eighteen months ago and when I woke up, my body didn’t feel like it was mine anymore, I looked different and felt different. I have these ugly scars that healed even uglier and I couldn’t even look at myself, some days I still can’t. I haven’t been with anyone since the accident until this morning and I needed it. I wanted you, I couldn’t hide that anymore, could I?”

“Clarke… you—you’re gorgeous. You know that, right?”

“I used to think maybe, but the accident really messed me up physically and mentally. The latter never shows.”

Bellamy nodded slowly, “Can I show you how gorgeous you are?”

“I won’t believe you.”

“Then I’ll keep trying.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this morning was fun and I’d rather have more fun with you than go looking for some groupie.”

“You’ve been doing that?”

“No. I’m not fucking someone in a green room and ditching them for the next town. That may be my persona but I’ve never actually done that.”

“Okay. So, friends with benefits? When the tour’s over so is whatever this is.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I just, I feel like I can trust you and you don’t have to try and convince me I’m pretty because it’s not easy to reverse that mindset.”

“I can still try,” he smiled, pushing off the door and stepped into her. “Do I get to see you this time?”

“Yeah,” Clarke grimaced and Bellamy stepped back.

“Clarke, I promise, the second that you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop. Just tell me.”

She nodded and lifted her shirt just enough to loop her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and pushed them down. The scars on her leg weren’t as bad as she initially thought, they’re small and scattered, she thought maybe the windshield shattered and somehow all the pieces were embedded into the skin of her legs. Then there was the one from the blood clot while she was in a coma, that was on her inner thigh and she was surprised that Bellamy didn’t feel it that morning with his hands holding her up by her thighs.

Bellamy stepped back and took over for her at the same time. His eyes landing on the surgery scar instantly. “Shit,” she heard him mumble before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the scar. “Let’s get those panties off of you before you lean back and relax, okay?”

“Bellamy…” she warned.

He leaned up and kissed her sweetly. “Let me take care of you, okay? Sit back.”

Clarke shuttered out a breath and as Bellamy pulled down her underwear, she sat on the edge of her bed. She stepped out of her clothes and Bellamy grabbed her ankle, slowly kissing his way up her calf, over her knee and up her thigh. If she looked, she would know if he was getting every scar or if he were avoiding them, she didn’t want to know.

He hooked her leg over his shoulder and before feeling his breath on her cunt, she knew what was coming… aside from her in a few minutes.

She wanted to dig her fingers in his inky curls but she was so scared that he would change his mind about any of it, so she just laid there in anticipation as Bellamy looked at her cunt for what felt like forever.

“God damn, this is the wettest pussy I’ve ever seen. Do you want me to fuck you Princess?”

“Bellamy, please,” she begged and Bellamy tsk’d at her.

“You know what? I’ll let you come on my tongue but before I fuck you, you’re going to let me see all of you.”

“Even my back?”

“Yeah, even your back.”

Clarke froze. Her back was the worst of it. The plastic surgeon worked on her face to get all the scars from there but the rest of her body was a minefield. An ugly, tough minefield of scars enrapturing her entire body.

“Hey,” Bellamy said, leaning up and cupping her cheek. “You won’t even know its happening. You trust me?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Bellamy smirked and kissed her swiftly before going back down between her thighs. He kissed her thigh before licking up her slit and she sighed. She couldn’t even describe what he was doing to her, it was like time slowed and sped up with every lick and suck. Her orgasm came quickly, too quickly and without the help of his fingers and Clarke wondered if her always asking for more with her partners was because they didn’t know what they were doing and less because she couldn’t get off without multiple stimulation.

“You taste amazing,” Bellamy smiled while she was coming down and she vaguely felt her shirt lift up as he kissed up her stomach. “Take it off,” he said, mouthing at her sternum.

“I…”

“It’s okay,” he backed off.

Clarke shook her head and leaned up and kissed him before looking into his deep soulful eyes (who the hell gave a rock star and permission to have soulful eyes anyway?) “I trust you.”

“You sure?”

“Just _look_ before we continue.”

“I did and you’re gorgeous,” he kissed her and Clarke sat up and pulled her shirt over her head and Bellamy smiled as he looked ostentatiously at her. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he breathed as he held her waist. “Bra too? Or can I not lick your tits just as you like?”

“Don’t tease me like that,” she deadpanned and pulled her sports bra over her head too.

Bellamy stared at her chest and though Clarke knew her breasts were the only places on her body that didn’t have scars because of her torn to shreds padded bra that night, it was still too strange to have anyone look at her that intensely, even there.

“Bellamy…”

He blinked and smirked at her, “I’m not sorry.”

Clarke laughed and it drew Bellamy’s attention back to her chest and it’s movements. She wanted to roll her eyes but with him being so unapologetic about it, she was kind of proud.

Bellamy leaned in, latching his lips around a hard nipple as his hand came up and squeezed and plucked the other. Clarke moaned and sighed at the attention and she didn’t know what was up or down.

“I really want you to fuck me.”

“That’s not what this is, baby.”

“Please.”

“You’re greedy, Princess,” he smirked fondly, his eyes glistening with a delicious mix of heat and desire.

“Maybe I just know what I want,” she countered.

“My dick?”

“A regular fuck. You down for that?”

“I mean nightly is going to be a little too much with concerts and constantly being on the bus after a show but yeah. We can figure it out.”

“Awesome,” Clarke breathes and looked up at Bellamy hoping he would whip his dick out right there and fuck her.

“Roll over, I’m not fucking you until _I see you_ ,” he climbed off the bed so she wouldn’t have to maneuver around him.

She froze though. The horror that was her back was nothing compared to her arms and legs and stomach. There were rods holding her back in place while it healed and she spent most of her recovery on her stomach in a special hospital bed and she was completely terrified that all her hard work, all her mother’s effort would be for naught when the time came to remove the rods and screws and whatever else they used to hold her together.

The next thing she knew she was curled against the headboard with Bellamy next to her rubbing soothing strokes over her inner thigh and wiping her cheeks away with his other hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, it was her gut wrenching initial reaction. She’s sorry that she’s a mess, she’s sorry that her want for carefree sex comes with her fucked up insecurities and body dysmorphia issues. It’s not fair to Bellamy to have to take care of her, that’s not what this is.

“Don’t, it’s okay.”

“How is this okay? This is supposed to be carefree and worry-free sex and I’m a mess!”

“Because I need this and you seem to also.”

“Right, because I’m a perfectionist with a stick up my ass so I need to get laid?”

“Because your accident changed your view of yourself and you don’t think you’re just as beautiful as you were before. They’re not ugly marks strewn across your body haphazardly from your accident. They’re battle scars, everyone has inward battles that they fight and now yours just happen to be on your skin. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them, not when everyone already knows what you’ve been through.”

“I’ll get there. Maybe it could start with one person,” she looked up into Bellamy’s eyes and the realization behind them was everything.

“I can be that for you.”

“Bellamy, you shouldn’t.”

“I want to.”

“Is that your thing? Fixing people?”

Bellamy scoffed, “No, if I wanted to fix people, Miller wouldn’t be obsessed with Taki’s and Murphy will stop self-sabotaging everything.”

“Octavia wouldn’t want to punch everything?”

“That’s Lincoln’s responsibly now.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I need to.”

Clarke nodded.

“She’s still my sister, I can’t just stop caring and wanting to help her but I also have to accept that she’s not my responsibility anymore. He and I talk about it a lot and it’s difficult for both of us. I was taking care of her and bailing her out for so long that not doing it feels wrong and he’s trying to handle the manic moments but he doesn’t know how to fully do that.”

Clarke slid down her bed to lie down, a little more comfortable for her aching back. “How long have they been together?”

“A few years,” Bellamy sighed, lying down with her. There’s no where for him to go, the bus is on its way to New York and won’t stop until they need more gas. His head on her stomach was soothing and she couldn’t help but comb her fingers through his dark locks. “They got married in April without telling me and that fight was why she left the band. Why we weren’t going to tour this summer but Lincoln’s been working with you and you’ve been pressuring him to come on tour with you. Then you asked us to tour too which brought us all together with a big conversation about me giving them space and here we are with me practically giving them the entire tour bus.”

“Miller and Murphy are still there, it’s not like they’re alone.”

“You think they’re not having sex right now? Shit, Clarke, we were just about to without caring if your manager or whoever else is on here heard us.”

It was a fair point, but Anya’s been through worse with her, she’d probably be glad that some of Clarke’s tension was gone since Bellamy and her… God, she can’t even say it. “Anya’s seen me at my worst, which isn’t sex-related, by the way.”

“The hospital?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain. Let’s just leave it at not all the rumors about me are true.”

“So you’re going to trust me with your body but not your life story?”

“Not yet.”

“I bared my sister to you.”

“And I appreciate that, I’m just… I’m not ready to accept this truth. Not yet.”

Bellamy turned his head and looked at her. “Okay. Can I eat you out again?”

Clarke chuckled, throwing Bellamy’s head off her stomach and she pulled him down for a toothy kiss. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, are you ready for me? You want that, babe?”

Clarke smiled up at his fun, lightheartedness and nodded. “Get to work, Rebel.”


	5. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEW YORK! ARE YOU READY FOR CLARKE GRIFFIN AND THE DELINQUENTS?
> 
> I don't think they're ready... NYC day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been going through some things, changes at work, in my life with supposed friends, and with my house and family that have prevented me from posting this sooner. Ignoring the fact that a coworker just gave me feedback on chapter one of this fic and essentially trashed it, I think I'm OKAY...

Clarke woke up to someone knocking on her door. “Anya, go away!” she called, nuzzling deeper into Bellamy spooning her.

“I can’t! We’re in New York and if people see you and Bellamy getting out of the same trailer, there’s going to be Bellarke confirmation sooner than either of you want.”

“Shit,” Bellamy said behind her groggily. “She’s right. We’re having fun, they shouldn’t get to exploit it and make it more than it is,” he said and there was a twinge in his morning voice that Clarke thought meant he didn’t want to be friends with benefits, that he didn’t like their situation as it was.

“I was kinda hoping we could do that again this morning but...”

Bellamy kissed her, effectively shutting her up. “We will. After we check into the hotel. Where’s your phone?”

Clarke scrambled to get her phone that needs to be charged since she didn’t plug it in last night and handed it to him.

“Twenty percent?” He asked, his eyes glued to the phone as he typed away on it. “Did you get distracted or something last night?”

“Haha, Mr. Distraction. What are you doing?”

“I’m texting myself so I can text you my room number once I get to my room and charge my phone because it’s dead.”

Clarke nodded and pouted about not getting off for at least another half an hour.

“And you know,” he dropped her phone and threw the covers over his head and crawled between her legs. “Other things,” he quipped as he licked her lips.

“Bellamy,” Clarke warned, she knew Anya wasn’t past walking in on Clarke with someone and getting to work on the agenda for the day, but it came out as a whimper instead and she hated how weak she sounded.

“Mm,” he moaned, rolling his tongue over her clit as he sucked impossibly hard over the little nub, the dual action driving her mad.

“You’re way too good at that, how isn’t that public knowledge?”

“NDR’s. I don’t like that you can still talk,” he said and plunged a finger deep into her cunt and she bit her lip, moaning out a squeal.

“Seriously!” Anya called through the door.

Bellamy chuckled and the vibration reverberated through Clarke and it brought her to orgasm quicker than before with him and Clarke didn’t want him to stop so she gripped his long shaggy hair and held him to her core.

“You know, I could do this all day, you taste that good but we should be getting to our rooms and appointments,” he said against her cunt.

“I know, how about one more though?”

“How about you ride me and we both get off?”

Clarke smiled, she loved being on top, she loved the control it gave her but the thought of being that exposed to him in the sunlight was not something she could handle at the moment.

Her hand left Bellamy’s hair as tears pricked her eyes and she tried blinking them back but it just made them fall from the corners.

“Hey, hey. Clarke, it’s okay. We don’t have to. I thought last night...”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s not something that’s fixed overnight. It’s dysmorphia and it’s paralyzing.”

“I’m sorry. This proves to me how much you want this, how much you want the semblance of normalcy that being body-secure and mentally and emotionally ready.”

“I’m in therapy for it and I thought it was working, but if I keep freaking out every time you want to see me, I guess it’s not.”

“Hey, you don’t… I’m pushing you too hard too fast, I need to slow down. I’m good with that, I have to figure it out though because I’ve never done slow before.”

“We’re friends with benefits, it should just be easy sex and so far it’s not. That’s on me and I’d understand if you want out.”

“I don’t. I can slow down, but maybe call your therapist and talk to them, maybe schedule an hour into your day where you can talk to them about your anxieties. Don’t mind my lack of knowledge on the terminology.”

Clarke laughed, “Thanks. Yeah, you should go. Don’t want the Bellarkers to have any heart attacks.”

Bellamy smiled, “It’d be their faults.” He leaned over and pressed a swift kiss to her lips and stood to get dressed, how the hell did she not notice the tattoos on his back? What did they mean? As he pulled his shirt over his head, Clarke laid her head back on her pillow because if she looked at him any longer, she’d jump his bones without caring if anyone saw him step out of her tour bus.

“You need to get ready too, it’s GMA and Elvis Duran in a few hours.”

“ _Fuuuuuuck,”_ she groaned and heard Bellamy vaguely chuckle and the bed moved as he stood to get his boxers and jeans from the floor and Clarke pressed her eyes shut tightly because if she even dared to look at his ass she was going to be gone and just want to suck his dick so hard.

* * *

“Are you ready?” Bellamy asked two hours later while she’s hiding from all the fans and paparazzi and anyone who doesn’t know the real reason why Clarke Griffin would be at a Delinquents concert.

“Yeah. You’re doing three songs for the show and the last one is I Think I’m OKAY. I can handle that.”

“And then we’re running over to Tribeca for Elvis Duran.”

“You’re coming?”

“Pike’s kind of forcing me and you said with this premiering in roughly thirty minutes, we should talk about it together. Let everyone know about it on the radio together.”

“Cool, um, we’re taking a helicopter because it’d be quicker to get across town than a car at this hour.”

“It’ll take a half-hour driving if you know the streets.”

Clarke smirked, “Do you?”

“I lived here for three years before The Delinquents were signed and we moved out to a little two-bedroom in Atwater Village.”

“You had to pay for it?”

“We were working overnights at grocery stores as stockers to pay for our apartment because the label wouldn’t put out without a guarantee.”

“I was in the Disney family and I’m from LA so I didn’t have to deal with any of that.”

“Hence ‘Princess’, Princess,” Bellamy teased and looked around before leaning in and kissing Clarke.

She kissed him back, though she’ll never admit that him calling her “princess” turned her on in the slightest. It didn’t, nope, not at all.

“Bell, you can kiss your girlfriend after your insanely scheduled day is _over_ , but right now we have a show to play,” Octavia said and Bellamy growled.

“I’ll talk to her.”

Clarke smiled, “Break a leg out there, will you?”

“I’d say the same, but the last time someone probably said that to you they jinxed you. So… rock on.”

Rolling her eyes, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to blow you in the helicopter.”

Bellamy groaned, stepping away from her. “Not fair, princess.”

Clarke smirked and shoved him out towards the stage where he began playing, Killer Queen, the first single off their last album.

She’s heard them play it the last two weeks, it shouldn’t affect her that it does right now, having wicked flashbacks of her secret Bora Bora honeymoon and her husband who was slain too soon.

Anya rubbed her back, bringing her to the present with a tight smile. She didn’t know what the song did to Clarke, but she could probably assume that it had some effect.

“I’m here if you need to talk about it,” she said softly and it was the first time that Clarke’s heard Anya say anything nice or soft to her in the year and some months Clarke has known her. It was jarring and exactly what Clarke needed, a hard manager that would get her back in shape and bring the right people in to do so, like Lincoln.

“You probably don’t want to hear this, but I talked to Lincoln about you and Bellamy. He says sex is a good thing but not to be too strenuous about it.”

“No tantric sex, got it,” Clarke jokes, she needed to get into a better mood before going onstage.

“This isn’t a joke, Clarke.”

“I know, but it’s my life and I’m barely managing to tread above water. I needed something to help me and that’s Bellamy. So back off about this, please.”

“Wells fucked you up more than you’re letting on?”

“I was in love with him, we were married, and he nearly killed me to avoid hitting that little girl that ran out into the street to meet me. I’m supposed to be lucky and happy about surviving but I lost my best friend in the process. I don’t know how I can feel lucky when I lost my best friend.”

“You never told me any of that.”

Clarke grimaced as the song ended and Bellamy looked over to her as Robin Roberts stepped out on the stage and said something to the cameras, he grimaced and turned back to Robin and Clarke hid a little further back off stage so none of the fans saw her.

After a few minutes, they played another song, one a little older than the last, and that she didn’t know so well, though it was popular.

 _The twist of the knife,_  
A swallowed sweet delight  
Choking, drowning in the metallic  
Crimson lips on bloody skin  
I’m another one of your deadly sins

Clarke always loved those lyrics and wondered where Bellamy went mentally to grab it. Maybe she’ll ask him one day. Then again, it reminded her too much of what happened in Miami and it probably should her send her back to her panic attack, but it was somehow calming, remembering Wells and how much he loved her, that he was there with her until his very last moment. She thought she was the one that was dying when it was him the entire time, the windshield wiper in his lung killed him.

_“I will always love you,” he said with tears streaming down his cheeks and Clarke prayed that he wasn’t giving up on her. She was in so much pain it was numbing and she couldn’t move and she couldn’t see all the pain he was in right next to her._

_“Wells… Wells, I’m—I’m scared. I can’t feel anything.”_

_“You’re going to be okay, Clarke. We’re going to be okay.”_

_“Please let me go. If I… I need you to let me go.”_

_“Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to wake up and everything’s going to be normal. You’re going to go home and sleep in our bed.”_

_“With you,” Clarke choked out, not missing the dark liquid jumping out from between her lips._

_“Clarke… Clarke…_ Clarke!” she heard looking to Anya. “It’s time.”

“We have a surprise for everyone here today!” Bellamy said with a big smile, even though he was looking out to the crowd, Clarke could tell. “We have a new single out, it’s one of my all-time favorites and we’re going to premiere it RIGHT NOW!”

The crowd went wild as the first strums of the guitar.

“Watch me, take a good thing and _mess_ it all up in one night  
Catch me, I'm the one on the run away from the headlights  
No sleep, up all week wasting time with people I don't like  
I think something's really wrong with me

“Drown myself in alcohol, that stuff never helps at all  
I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call  
I've been hearing silence on the other side for way too long  
I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that something's wrong but  
I guess it's just my life and I can take it if I wanna  
But I cannot hide in hills of California  
Because these hills have eyes, and I got paranoia  
I hurt myself sometimes, is that too scary for you?

“Watch me, take a good thing and _mess_ it all up in one night  
Catch me, I'm the one on the run away from the headlights  
No sleep, up all week wasting time with people I don't like  
I think something's…”

Clarke joins Bellamy on stage and joins in on the second half of the lyric, “…really wrong with me.”

The crowd screamed at the sight of Clarke joining them on stage and she smiled at Bellamy who smiled back but there was something in his eyes, understanding maybe. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he knows that something is wrong and it’s like Miller said, _when Bellamy cares about you, you know._

She laughed a little, for the crowd, and started in on her verse. “Roll me up and smoke me, love  
And we can fly into the night  
Roll me up and smoke me, love  
And we can fly into the night  
You take drugs (take drugs) to let go (let go)  
And figure it all out on your own  
Take drugs (take drugs) on gravestones (gravestones)  
To figure it all out on your own.”

Bellamy joined her in singing the chorus, “Watch me, take a good thing and _mess_ it all up in one night  
Catch me, I'm the one on the run away from the headlights  
No sleep, up all week wasting time with people I don't like  
I think something's really wrong with me.”

Clarke sings the last part with Bellamy adding in the little accented depth even though it’s The Delinquent’s song and he should finish it, but it’s Bellamy, he’s a giver. “You'll find me alone at midnight  
Inside my mind, tryna get things right.” _“Something's really wrong with me,”_ Bellamy growled.  
“They want to keep you calling  
So you don't wake in the morning.” _“Something's really wrong with me.”_  
“Goodnight, goodnight  
Goodnight, goodnight, yeah  
Find me alone at midnight” _“Goodnight.”_  
“Inside my mind, tryna get things right” _“Goodnight.”_  
They want to keep you calling” _“Goodnight.”_  
So you don't wake in the morning.” _“Goodnight.”_

Clarke smiled as Robin Roberts walked onto the stage, her mouth agape in shock. “Let me just tell everyone that I had no idea that Clarke Griffin was joining The Delinquents this morning! What a lovely surprise! Hi, Clarke!” she said, coming in for a hug.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled. “We wanted it to be a surprise and everyone, the single is officially out right now!”

“How did you guys come together on this song?”

“Uh, he left his door open and I heard him playing the guitar, and we just ran with it one night.”

“Well, day,” Bellamy corrected, looking to Clarke.

“Right, I was on my way to read by the pool. I don’t know where that book went.”

“I’ve been reading it.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. Okay, so maybe playing into the whole Bellarke thing is fun and maybe Clarke likes seeing the little fire of annoyance in Bellamy’s eyes when she lightly flirts. “Of course you are. I want it back.”

“Make me,” Bellamy leaned in and yeah, they’re too good at this.

“Are you two confirming the Bellarke rumors?”

“Ew, no,” Clarke reared back with a disgusted look before winking to the crowd.

“We’re friends,” Bellamy added, not-so-convincingly.

Clarke smiled, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Well,” Robin said. “Thank you so much for being here, thank you to John, Nate, and Octavia in The Delinquents and the crowd that’s come from far and wide to be here! This was a great show! Michael, back to you!”

Music blasted through the speakers and Clarke and Robin talked about stupid things while Bellamy and the Delinquents helped the team pack their gear and Clarke and Bellamy ran out the moment they could to catch their helicopter to Tribeca where Clarke did, in fact, blow Bellamy mid-flight.

“You need to fix your lipstick, gorgeous,” Bellamy smirked and Clarke leaned up and kissed him sweetly and the groan that came out of Bellamy was the best part of the morning.

“How’s it now?”

“Fuck, you’re going to make me hard again.”

Clarke laughed and stepped out of the helicopter and they headed toward the Z100 building.

It was such a warm welcome, everyone was so nice and it wasn’t like Clarke hadn’t been there but it was a lot of fun and Clarke was happy that Bellamy was getting the attention too.

“So Clarke, you’ve had a busy morning,” Elvis jokes when they started the show.

“Yeah, just came straight from GMA and now I’m here,” she said, not giving away the spoiler of Bellamy being there with her.

“What happened over there?”

“Oh, The Delinquents just released a new single and it’s amazing!”

“What makes it amazing?”

“I might have a part in it.”

“Sounds good, can’t wait to talk about it when it’s over. Without further ado, Bellamy, you want to take this?”

“Hey, guys, I’m Bellamy Blake from The Delinquents and this is our new single featuring Clarke Griffin _I Think I’m OKAY.”_

The song starts playing and the mics shut off and they all laugh for the first half of the song, knowing that all the fans listening in are going insane.

“That was awesome!”

“They’re probably freaking out!” Danielle commented.

“Completely freaking out, you two sound so good together too!” Gandhi added.

“Thanks.”

“So you two are together, right?”

Bellamy smirked, “No.”

“Oh, you’re having fun. We’ll keep it on the DL,” Danielle smiled and Clarke hoped she was being sincere.

“It’s just the song,” Bellamy clarified as Clarke stayed silent. She’s not a great liar, better actress.

“It’s wrapping up,” Clarke stated lowly as she sang _Goodnight_ for the second time on the song.

When the song finished, the whole cast of The Morning Show was clapping and hollering.

“That was so good! Might be my new summer obsession,” Froggy exclaimed and went in for a hug and Clarke pulled back, leaning into Bellamy.

“So if you didn’t know and just came in. We’re here with Clarke Griffin _and_ Bellamy Blake premiering their new song _I Think I’m OKAY_ and we are _not_ OKAYafter that. Please tell the story of that song.”

“Not much of a story, I heard Bellamy playing the melody and I started in on some lyrics,” Clarke told them and Bellamy looked to her with a grimace.

“Don’t let her downplay it, I think we were, rather _are_ , broken people that needed something like this song to come into our lives and help mend some pieces.”

Clarke looked to Bellamy and smiled, maybe it wasn’t the song that ignited their mending, but it was a stepping stone in getting them to be more cordial to each other and allow them to be friends with benefits. That meant something and maybe it’s all him mending her, his soft, calloused hands and plush lips that dared to touch every inch of skin, even the taboo parts of the body that people don’t talk about. His electric touch that set her alight along with his soothing words that kept her from panicking at his slightest touch.

“Clarke?” She heard snapping herself back into the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, looking to them all.

“Are you ready to play the song live?” Elvis asked and she looked to Bellamy who nodded, his face contorted with concern.

“Yeah! Let’s do this!”

They played the song live and Clarke felt so alive and maybe it was because it was so intimate or because the nerves of playing it for the first time on GMA subsided. She was mostly just itching for Bellamy to put his hands on her again.

“Obsessed,” Danielle said when they finished and Clarke smiled.

“Thank you.”

They talk a little bit more about the tour and new music, a little bit about Clarke’s new movie. Bellamy smiled when they brought it up and Clarke refrained from rolling her eyes about his silent innuendoes.

“You had fun with that last bit, didn’t you?” Clarke whispered to Bellamy in the back of the packed elevator, Clarke’s security man in front of them and business people who acted like this was normal.

“Who wouldn’t have fun talking about _The Come On?”_ Bellamy smirked, his hand landing on her lower back and she looked up at him with his mischievous glint in his eyes.

Clarke opened her mouth to ask him something but Bellamy’s hand moved south, cupping her ass and giving her just the right amount of pressure to make her gasp. “Bellamy—“ she warned quietly.

“I’ve been wanting to eat you out all morning," he said into her ear. "That blow job just enhanced my need to. We have soundcheck later, but some time before that…”

“Yeah, I would love to,” she said, her damp panties could attest to that, but she needed time to relax and do nothing before gearing up for the night’s concert. “But I think I need some time to relax, rest my back before tonight.”

“Do you need Lincoln?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this morning? At least, in the helicopter. Clarke, you shouldn’t have done that if this was going on with your back.”

Clarke shook her head, “I wanted to. Can I have my book back?”

“Yeah, it’s in my duffel. Probably in the hotel by now. I can bring it to you.”

“No, I’ll… I’ll grab it on my way to my suite.”

“You don’t want to be left alone with me?”

“Right now, I don’t trust myself to do what’s good for my back.”

“We could do yoga again,” he offered.

“Bellamy,” she sighed. “I want to read my book and take a bath. I need to do nothing to lessen the pain and ensure my long-term recovery.”

Bellamy nodded, “Okay, I understand.”

“I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

* * *

“Hello, New York!” Clarke called into the microphone after preforming _I Think I’m OKAY_ with The Delinquents and they left the stage, replaced by her band. “I know, I know! What fun we’re going to have tonight!” The crowd kept screaming and Clarke laughed, moving around the stage, letting her back stretch out a little bit. “I may have a surprise in store for you. Wait, we just played _I Think I’m OKAY,_ never mind.” She winked and she knew the camera let everyone in Madison Square Garden see her little move.

Clarke launched into her first song on her setlist, she changed it rarely but she itched to sing a song she hadn’t performed before. She already had a surprise set up tomorrow but she couldn’t get anything done today so _I Think I’m OKAY_ being released was a perfect excuse for that, as though it were planned.

She played a few more songs before taking a seat on a stool that was brought out to her, thanking the man that brought it out.

“So this song has… I wouldn’t say a special hold in my heart, but it has a weighted meaning that I know how to interpret but maybe I don’t want to yet. I don’t know,” she sighed.

“Sorry I'm a bitch to you  
I know that I'm the reason that you're so insecure  
Think that I'd know better  
As I get a little older

“I'm sorry I'm a bitch to you  
I know that I'm the reason you don't smile anymore  
Think I'd learn my lesson  
'Cause now I'm feelin' empty

“And you say, ‘Why do you talk to yourself like that?’  
I say, ‘I don't know why.’  
Oh  
You say all of these things are just in my mind  
Kiss me 'til I'm alright

“I just wanna love my body  
Like you love my body  
I wanna look in the mirror  
And tell it that it's beautiful like you do  
I wanna love my body  
Like you love my body  
Wanna make it feel like it's incredible like you do

“And I don't see what you see  
But I want to, I wanna love...  
Love my body like I love your body

“I'm sorry I don't let you go out with your friends  
Last time I think I said it was a little too short  
And you said I harp on you too much  
So you put a sweatshirt on 'cause you gave up  
Watched TV still in your make-up  
And you stayed in it 'til you waked up  
You wiped it off when we made up

“And you say, ‘Why do you talk to yourself like that?’  
I say, ‘I don't know why.’  
Oh  
You say all of these things are just in my mind  
Kiss me 'til I'm alright

“I just wanna love my body  
Like you love my body  
Wanna look in the mirror  
And tell it that it's beautiful like you do  
I wanna love my body|  
Like you love my body  
Wanna make it feel like it's incredible like you do

“And I don't see what you see  
But I want to, I wanna love...  
Love my body like I love your body

“I just wanna love my body  
Like you love my body  
I wanna look in the mirror  
And tell it that it's beautiful like you do  
I wanna love my body  
Like you love my body  
Wanna make it feel like it's incredible like you do”

Clarke looked over to the side of the stage and found Bellamy watching her, eyes locked on her. He smiled when he noticed her looking over and she smiled back before launching into the next song on her setlist.

When her set was over, and she went back out for her encore of Ed Sheeran’s _Perfect_ , Clarke got into her Escalade that was going to take her back to the hotel they’re staying in but Octavia hopped in the back seat next to her.

“Uh, hi,” Clarke smiled.

“What the hell is going on with you and my brother?” Octavia asked with no tact.

“We’re having fun,” Clarke answered honestly and Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Fun doesn’t change Bellamy’s pessimism into optimism.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“I’d think it’s the tour or me rejoining the band but that would start the first rehearsal, not two weeks after tour and this isn’t a songwriting high. You two are fucking or something.”

“Or something,” Clarke deadpanned and looked out the window.

“Ignore me all you want, I’m going to figure it out. This song snapped something within both of you and I’m going to figure out what it is!”

“We’re getting to know each other in the biblical sense. Are you happy? Now if this gets out, I know who to blame. Also, know that this is over the second the tour is over so no one needs to know.”

“Does Bellamy know that?”

“Yes.”

”Fine, but I know my brother, so just promise me that if it’s getting more serious than you want to handle. Stop it. You might be having fun but Bellamy’s heart gets in his way of fun.”

”What do you mean?”

”It’s not my place to say but ask him about Gina if you need to know.”


	6. Love My Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that there's a Spotify playlist for this that gets updated with each song introduced to this world (unless I wrote it, in my poor attempts at that) [CLICK HERE!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=ReJdjxnDQdC9G4jTyRXqZQ)  
> Some exciting news: I have an editor who's a Clexa fan, he also just watched Lexa's death and isn’t too happy about it.

Clarke woke up in a panic. It could have been a nightmare but she couldn’t move, and it wasn’t sleep paralysis. Her back ached and screamed at her. She took a breath then several more until it stopped and, then, calmly reached for her phone. It barely fit inside of her wobbling hand. The pain pulled short gasps and screams from her. She texted Lincoln. Then Anya. 

Trying to hold herself together, she took a deep, shuddering breath trying to calm herself and, though it wasn’t working, she kept pushing herself to calm down. Pushing herself to calm down definitely wasn’t helping her to actually calm down and the moment she heard her door open, she panicked even more. The click of the door opening signaled her incoming relief. Her face broke with tears as Lincoln rushed through the bedroom of her suite to her side. 

“I’m going to roll you over, okay? I called my friend Nyko, he’s a neurosurgeon and will be here in fifteen minutes.”

Clarke’s head jerked. “Anya, please. Please let me die. I… I can’t keep doing this. I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” Anya’s voice boomed across the room. “You’ve been here before, you’ve asked to die before and you made it through, you’ve thrived. This is just another setback. You’re in recovery, I told you not to jump around the stage and you didn’t listen. We have to make a drastic change if you want to live and dance in your fifties. Promise m—“

“I just want Wells!”

“I know. I’m sorry, Clarke. I promised to keep you alive and happy, we’re still working on the latter.”

“What the hell is going on?” Clarke heard a voice from the door. She started from her bed automatically before her back howled at her again. Not that it mattered. She knew who it was. Bellamy.

“Bellamy, you shouldn’t be here,” said Lincoln. 

“The hell I shouldn’t. Clarke, what’s going on?” Bellamy demanded, coming to the side of her bed and took her hand in his. It’s sweet, but that’s not what they’re doing.

“Get out!”

“Clarke—“

“Lincoln, get him out of here,” Anya said calmly and Clarke felt a number of hands leave her body as her face dug into her pillow. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Don’t use my song against me,” Clarke spat back. She didn’t want to keep doing this. Their words fell on deaf ears. She wasn’t getting better. She would never get back to one hundred percent, there’s no hope anymore.

“Don’t make me do this, Clarke. You’re strong, resilient. You can make it through this.”

“I don’t want to go through this again. I can’t.

“I know, I know. We just have to be more cautious and you’ll be just fin—“

“I had a plan!”

“I know you did. I know. This is just a minor setback, we can—“

There was a knock on the door before Lincoln opened it to bring Dr. Nyko in. “I rolled her onto her back, she’s in more pain than she’s ever been in.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve been with her since Miami and she’s never begged for death. Is there anything you can do?”

“I’ve seen the videos from her concerts. How can you let her do any of that while in recovery?” the doctor’s disapproving voice boomed.

“She was fine during rehearsals.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, she was pushing it and any good PT would have seen that. What’s gotten into you, Lincoln?”

Lincoln grimaced. “I…”

“Your wife,” Dr. Nyko scoffed. “I should have known.”

“Octavia has nothing to do with this! Clarke is stubborn and won’t ask for help or reprieve. She won’t let anyone know when she’s hurting.”

“That’s not an excuse! You’re job is to take care of her back and make sure this wouldn’t happen and here we are!” Anya accused.

“I’m sorry,” Lincoln’s eyes were glassy. Clarke wished she could defend him, but his job was to pester her; pester her into making healthy decisions. The problem was that he didn't, and she didn't.

Maybe being with Bellamy was a bad idea.

* * *

“Bellamy, we have to go,” Octavia presses and Bellamy wondered why Pike wasn’t the one doing it, but he already knew. Pike was their business manager and let them handle their own personal lives, bringing in the studio’s publicist to deal with the aftermath of a breakdown, or Octavia quitting because Bellamy was an asshole about Lincoln unwittingly because Pike disapproved of Octavia marrying him in his head. "It's bad for your image," he claimed.

“I need to know if she’s okay,” Bellamy pressed, not moving from the wall outside Clarke’s room. He was still in his sweaty workout clothes from the gym earlier and he needed to shower and change before they went to Rockefeller Center to cover for Clarke.

“Pike said Anya will text him updates. You need to shower and get dressed.”

Bellamy sighed, leaning his head back against the hallway wall. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“I don’t know, Bell.” Octavia sighed. “Lincoln is in there too so he’ll text me about anything worthwhile. If Pike doesn’t tell you anything, I will.”

“Promise. O, I—I had a part in this, I knew she was hurting. I knew and didn’t stop her or myself. I—I did this to her!”

“Bell…” Octavia huffed and stood. “I know you feel responsible for this, but you didn’t cause her accident. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I… we shouldn’t have done anything, I should have known better after your fall that she shouldn’t have been doing anything that could compromise her recovery.”

“I broke my leg, I wasn’t nearly paralyzed, there’s a difference. She said she was fine when she wasn’t, this isn’t on you.”

“But I knew.”

“Did you talk to her about it? Push her to get Lincoln to help her?”

“Yes.”

“Then you did everything you could. This isn’t on you.”

“I wish I believed you, I could have pushed her to go to him more than I did. I’m selfish.”

“You’re not selfish. It doesn’t matter if you believe me, we just have to go get ready instead of sitting here, not covering for your girlfriend who needs us to cover for her.”

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“Play a song, do an interview and play another song. It’s simple and just enough to keep you occupied and your mind off of what’s going on with Clarke.”

“Unlikely.”

“Just don’t let them know why you’re freaking out or what’s going on with Clarke.”

Bellamy stood.“I can do that, but you have to promise me that Lincoln will text me with updates, I don’t want anyone to sugarcoat it for me.”

“I’ll text him that.”

Bellamy nodded and headed back down the hall towards his room.

He was in a daze., His shower was a vague memory. Had he showered? The grey button-down and black jeans he’d put on felt as though someone else had put them on for him. He’d barely acknowledged Miller and Murphy in the car, only hearing Octavia whenever “Lincoln” slipped past her lips.

“Can you text him for an update?” Bellamy msnapped three minutes before they were supposed to perform.

“Still waiting for a response. I’m not texting him again.”

Bellamy couldn’t breathe. The guilt ate away at him and Murphy was told by everyone to shut up because his outlandish comments were getting out of hand. “Maybe he’s too busy fucking Clarke,” said Murphy with his patent smirk and dead eyes on his face.

Octavia shot him a murderous glance but didn’t acknowledge his words about her husband cheating.

“Shut up, Murphy,” said Bellamy, doing his best to remain neutral. He turned to Octavia and said, “This is killing me, O. I don’t like waiting.”

Murphy shrugged. “You wouldn’t think that by how you fuck a girl.”

Bellamy ignored Murphy, mostly because he was right, but also because he checked his phone again for texts from anyone; he was certain they’d all turned their phones off because of his constant texting. 

He managed to play _Dog Days_ with ease (always the showman), hoping that Clarke was maybe somehow watching them to get her mind off everything she was going through.

Octavia showed him the text Lincoln sent her while they were playing during the commercial break.

Lincoln: _Clarke’s okay, not great, but she can perform in a stool for the night. Only walking on and off stage when she needed to._

The news didn’t help Bellamy much, but it did help him focus on the interview and the next song coming up.

“The Delinquents, it’s so good to see you all again,” a woman named Savannah Guthrie smiled at him. It was a flashy, calming smile that, despite its purpose, made his fingers curl for some strange reason. 

“Thanks for having us,” he said, firing back a smile of his own, patting Miller on the back next to him. A reminder of being surrounded by people who loved and worried about him, begrudgingly including Murphy in that grouping.

“You’re currently on tour with Clarke Griffin, who’s just coming back from a major accident. How is she doing?”

“She’s…” Bellamy grimaced. Why the hell was Savannah’s first question about Clarke? He stared at the woman wondering if the words “subtlety” or “tact” would even register to her.

“She’s good,” Octavia took over. “She has her physical therapist with her all the time and they’re working on strengthening her back every day. Some days are better than others, just like life and work, but she’s doing what she needs to and that’s all we can ask for.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Murphy said with a smirk, which always looked like a snarl and Bellamy wondered how they were even signed with Murphy’s facial expressions, let alone acquire some semblance of fame.

“Yes, Octavia,” Savannah said, bringing Bellamy back to the fact that they were in the middle of a live televised interview. “Your husband is Clarke’s physical therapist, is that why you decided to come back to The Delinquents after leaving them six months prior?”

“No, I was getting married and I was feeling lost in the band and generally in life. We hadn’t put out any new music since the last album and at the time I thought we were done. The Delinquents were over and maybe they would have been if Lincoln wasn’t going on tour with Clarke and it just worked out for us to have been on her short list of bands to open. Bellamy and Clarke wrote _I Think I’m OKAY_ in one night and that probably saved us too.”

“Thanks for all your faith in me, sis,” Bellamy said with a smirk. He’d meant it as a joke, but his voice went raw thinking about Clarke, how she’d come at him the other night for breaking her down. 

The smile on Octavia’s face was familiar, though. The kind of smile that only siblings would recognize from years of a shared existence. Detecting Bellamy’s sarcasm, and sifting through his conflicted feelings was a talent Octavia and Octavia alone had mastered.

The rest of the interview was barely a blip on Bellamy’s radar until his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he nearly ripped the fabric off trying to answer it, knowing it was about Clarke. He knew they had another song to perform before he could even get back to her but he needed to know what was going on.

When they cut to commercial, Bellamy pulled out his phone and read the text from Lincoln.

Lincoln: _Bring_ _a guitar to her room when you get back._

What the hell did that mean? Was she okay? Does she want him to play for her?

Bellamy: _Is she okay?_

Lincoln: _Just bring the guitar, Bellamy. That’s all she told me._

Bellamy sighed and rolled his neck and heard the crack but wasn’t relieved from the pressure. “I need to get out of here,” Bellamy said, glancing at Miller.

“Wait ten minutes, okay? Let’s just play _Heart Attack_ and we can get you back to Clarke.”

“Who picked _Heart Attack_?”

“Clarke,” Octavia said and Bellamy snapped his head to look at his sister.

“Clarke? What do you mean?”

“Lincoln texted earlier and said Clarke wants us to play _Heart Attack_. It’s a good choice.”

Bellamy nodded and thought of the lyrics, of course she’d want a song about a panic attack after having a panic attack. It’s the type of person she is. “Okay.”

“We don’t have to…”

“No, we will.”

“Bellamy, I love you, but this isn’t healthy.”

He sighed and turned back to where the news anchors were having fun and Bellamy wished he could have fun while also wishing he were next to Clarke holding her hand. He hadn’t felt this way since Gina, and his mom before that. Those were old hang-ups, sure, thinking that they were broken in some way and that he was making them worse. But, even thinking that they were broken felt wrong. They weren’t. 

Maybe he was the broken one.

* * *

They went back on the small stage and played _Heart Attack_ ; a love song being compared to having a panic/heart attack. More like the moment a person realizes and they don’t want to be but that’s what’s going on.

Why did Clarke want this song? What was she trying to say? Was she talking to him or someone else? Another piece of nostalgia that Bellamy won’t get a glimpse of until she wants more than friends with benefits with him. He was diving into dangerous territory and he didn’t know how to stop himself or slow himself down. He’s going to fall in love with her by the end of the tour and break his own heart.

He didn’t waste any time getting out of the studio and into the Escalade waiting for him. The whole thirty minutes it took to get back to the hotel he’d tapped his phone against his leg, waiting for the notification bell to chime. It didn’t. Rushing inside, he went to his suite first and grabbed his acoustic guitar before going to Clarke’s. 

Anya opened the door after he knocked and told him not to touch her at all. They couldn’t risk her getting agitated tonight. 

Walking into the bedroom, Bellamy froze at the sight of a young girl. The chestnut-haired preteen was at the edge of Clarke’s bed, talking animatedly about school and her friends.

Clarke looked over the girl’s shoulder and smiled a little wider. The girl kept talking as though nothing was out of the ordinary and Clarke continued smiling at Bellamy, not missing a beat.

“Hey, Madi,” she said softly, interrupting the girl and her avid storytelling. The girl quieted so Clarke continued, “I know I couldn’t get your mom to let you come to the shows this weekend, but I might have something better for you.”

Madi didn’t say anything so Clarke nodded to Bellamy and he smiled as she turned around and the most striking green eyes hit Bellamy like a brick. Who the hell was this girl and why did she remind him so much of his sister?

“BELLAMY BLAKE!” Madi exclaimed and Bellamy smiled widely. He hated being recognized at the grocery store or shopping, but when it was at a red carpet or after a show, it’s fun and part of his job. He’s still on instead of being his true self.

“Bellamy, this is Madi. Madi, Bellamy Blake.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Madi.” Bellamy smiled and Madi hopped off the bed and ran to hug him.

“Clarke’s told me so much about you!”

“She has?” Bellamy asked, looking to Clarke as Madi unraveled herself from Bellamy’s waist.

“First she called you a PITA but she’s nicer now.”

“Language, Mads,” Clarke warned her.

“What? I didn’t say it!”

“You implied with an acronym, it’s still a cuss word and not acceptable.”

“Mom doesn’t say anything.”

“Costia does know you’re here, right?”

“Uh…”

“Madi.”

“Not exactly,” she answered sheepishly.

“Okay, I was going to have Bellamy help me give you a private concert since you can’t come tonight, but now I need to call Costia who’s probably worried sick.”

“She dropped me off. She thinks you’re Raven but it’s fine, Clarke.”

Bellamy caught Clarke rolling her eyes at the preteen and he smiled. He wanted this. Maybe not with Madi, but he wanted a life where he could watch his wife and their daughter bicker while he watched bemused by them.

“What are you smiling about?” Clarke asked him and Bellamy looked to her.

“It’s cute, watching you two bicker like this. It’s like you’re family,” Bellamy said with a shrug before noticing the guilty look flickered over Clarke’s face before she threw the wall back up. She should have been an actress with how well she hides her emotions.

“We’ve known each other for about six years, right Madi?”

“Yep. Auntie Clarke,” Madi smiled and hopped onto the bed.

“Right. Who wants to hear a song?”

“Can you play your new one? It’s so fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be a fun song, Mads.”

“I know.”

“I only have my acoustic guitar so it’s going to sound how it did when we wrote it.”

“That’s so cool! Can I record it? Maybe you guys could use it in the music video?”

Clarke nodded, her eyes locked on Bellamy. “We can certainly try. Bellamy, would you help me stand up and make the bed a little?”

He dropped his guitar case on the chair and went to Clarke’s side and helped her up. From the looks of her back brace she’d been in bed all day. He wanted to ask about that, but not in front of Madi. He wished Madi wasn’t there so he could ask her about it.

Once Clarke was up, he straightened the sheets so that they didn’t look too slept in. Clarke sat back down as Bellamy grabbed his guitar case from a different chair so that Madi could join her. He placed it behind Clarke on the bed, taking it out carefully. 

Bellamy sat a respectable distance from Clarke on the bed. The look on her face wasn’t one of immediate comfort, but better than the hysterical fear he remembered from that morning. 

“I need to use the bathroom first,” Madi declared, jumping up and heading towards what Bellamy assumed was the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” he asked Clarke. The worry in his voice had become all too familiar. 

“I hope one day I will be.”

Bellamy sighed, hating the insinuation mixed with what he knew she was screaming that morning.

“Don’t. I’m going to be fine, I know it might not seem like it right now but I will be.”

“I heard you, Clarke. Everything you said this morning, I heard it and I’m worried.”

Clarke looked to the ground and twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I was paralyzed and freaking out, I didn’t mean it.”“You said it with such conviction. It scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to do that to you. You shouldn’t have been here though.”

“Because I care about you?” Bellamy grimaced.

“Because that’s not what this is between us.”

“I care about you, Clarke. I can’t just turn that off.”

“Maybe we should stop this then.”

“No. You can’t unilaterally make this decision.”

“Bellamy… I like this, it’s fun and I need fun right now, I’m just worried that it will compromise my health.”

Bellamy didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to give up whatever it was between them; it changed him and who he was on an atomic level. Losing Gina had cost him his ability to write songs, for a time, and the rest of the world knew it.

He’d healed from that somehow. But Clarke?

Clarke was an effervescent change to his life and losing her, he feared, would cost him even more. No, it would break him. 

He leaned in and kissed her. “After Madi leaves I’m going to change your mind,” he swore and Clarke licked her lips.

“Okay!” Madi’s cheery voice called walking back into the room, ignorant to the fact that Bellamy had just kissed Clarke or promised her an orgasm.

They performed their song for her as she recorded them play and Bellamy knew he was probably giving Clarke moon eyes but he didn’t care. He cared about her and he wasn’t afraid of admitting it to her.


	7. Beautiful People

Clarke walked onstage and performed _I Think I’m OKAY_ for the fourth time for the people of New York in two days. She wasn’t upset about it, she loved it. 

It didn’t help that she still felt Bellamy’s fingers inside her from earlier. How did he know exactly what she needed and how did she cave into letting him do it all?

She sang a couple songs, walking around the stage relatively calmly and on the third song someone brought her out a stool and her guitar.

“What’s up, New York City! I am so incredibly excited to be here for three nights! You know this means it’s half over but it’s still fun and exciting! I mean, The Delinquents and I released a new song here! New York is going to have a special place in my heart because of this weekend! And thank you all for being a part of it.

“Now, I need to sit,” she said, taking a seat on the stool. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’ve just been going so hard on this tour that I need a day or two to slow down and not exert myself. It’s a process getting back to my previous level of health again.” She’d purposely left whether it was physical or mental health, knowing that it was both. 

She probably could advocate for both in the future.

“Let’s not let this bring us down! Let’s continue to have some fun!” The drums kicked in for her fourth song and her dancers came out and started dancing as she started singing.

Halfway through her set, Clarke stood up and laid her guitar back in its stand next to her stool.

“I have a surprise for you all! And by ‘all’ I mean ‘Bellamy Blake’. Come on out here, Bellamy!” Clarke smiled.“So tomorrow’s show was the first to sell out and I had to ask my manager why that could be considering it’s a Sunday and she informed me that it’s because it’s Bellamy’s birthday tomorrow!” Bellamy sidled up next to Clarke, his face a dorky mixture of confusion and glee. “Now if you know me, you know I go big for all my friends’ birthdays and that includes people that I’ve written songs with. Most recently that means this guy.” 

Clarke pointed to Bellamy with her thumb.

“So I tried getting someone here for tomorrow and unfortunately everyone I spoke to was busy but I got someone here today!”

Bellamy looked at Clarke with wide eyes; she honestly couldn’t believe that they hadn’t crossed paths at all. “What did you do?”

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to my friend Khalid!”

Khalid walked onstage from stage left whereas Bellamy came out from stage right, to maintain the surprise and waved at the adoring crowd. “Hello,” he said into the mike before going to shake Bellamy’s hand. “Happy birthday, man. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Thank you. Likewise,” Bellamy said, a little star-struck.

“Is Bellamy Blake speechless?” Clarke joked.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, nudging and returning the smile she gave him. She liked the easiness between them, though she didn’t want the spectacle that was Bellarke. They could be friends in public. 

“We have a couple songs planned. Stick around if you want,” Clarke offered him and Bellamy’s eyes widened, his entire body shaking like a kid in a candy shop. One of his favorite artists was in front of him and he couldn’t keep his cool.

“Yeah, I’m going to sit and watch from right there.,” Bellamy pointed at the corner of the stage that extended out to the catwalk.

Clarke nodded and pushed him gently to the spot he pointed to then turned back to Khalid. They were going to start with his new collaboration with Ed Sheeran.

 _“We are, we are, we are…”_ Clarke started and Khalid smiled and nodded to the beat her band set up.

_“L.A. on a Saturday night in the summer  
_ _Sundown and they all come out  
_ _Lamborghinis and their rented Hummers…”_

Khalid and Clarke moved around the stage with ease, portraying a couple at a party that didn’t want to be there, playing off the lyrics and finishing at the end of the catwalk. 

As they performed a pang of guilt made Clarke turn and find Bellamy right where she’d left him, a tight grimace pulling at his face. Her lips moved while her heart sank.

Putting her mic down, she leaned over to Khalid’s ear, “Can you do _Silence_ next? I’ll go grab Bellamy’s mic so he can join in. He’s obsessed with that song.”

“That means he connects with it well.”

“That scares me a little. The trauma he’s been through,” she clarified.

“You’re closer than you claim to be, aren’t you?”

Clarke shrugged. “Don’t we all have an aspect of our lives that we hide from the public?”

“Fair point.”

They walked back to the main part of the stage and Khalid said something to Clarke’s guitarist. Clarke had already grabbed Bellamy’s mic from backstage by the time the band started playing _Silence_ and held it in front of him with a smile on her face. 

“What?”

“The second verse is yours. Go,” she said, more an order than a request.

There was an unfamiliar stutter in his voice. “I can’t, I’ll mess it up.”

“You have it memorized. Just turn the mic on and sing it.”

“He’s so good.”

“I know. Happy early birthday.”

Bellamy stood and hugged Clarke, momentarily forgetting about the Bellarke of it all and pulled away just as Khalid crooned the second to last line of the chorus.

_“I’m in need of a savior  
_ _But I’m not asking for favors  
_ _My whole life I’ve felt like a burden  
_ _I think too much and I hate it  
_ _I’m so used to being in the wrong  
_ _I’m tired of caring  
_ _Loving never gave a home  
_ _So I sit here in the silence”_

Watching Bellamy sing with one of his favorite modern artists was a sight to behold. He was completely in his element and it was the happiest Clarke had ever seen him. Maybe her life was in shambles but at least she could make someone’s life a little better, a little happier.

* * *

After the show, Clarke walked off stage as the crowd called for an encore. “Thank you.” He hugged her gently. “That was… that was amazing! We were talking for a while and he said he was up for writing together! It’s so cool.”

“That’s amazing,” Clarke smiled. “Want to go back out there with me? Play something acoustic. You and me and our guitars?”

“Play up Bellarke?”

“Maybe a little,” she smirked. “That hug nudged them a little more. We can play into it tonight and tomorrow.”

“Because it’s my birthday?”

“Yeah, it’s special.”

“Any more surprises you have up your sleeve?”

“You’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow.” She smirked at him.

“I’ll go run and grab my guitar, start without me?”

Clarke nodded and Bellamy leaned down and kissed her. A little shell shocked, Clarke grabbed her guitar and headed back onstage for the encore.

Plucking at the chords softly as the lights gradually grew brighter the crowd roared and, on the right chord, Clarke started singing the song she'd been wanting to cover for a while, but that had been problematic. She wasn't feeling it enough any of the times she practiced it. She'd never found the motivation to sing it on stage.

But it was a song that she knew Bellamy knew, and the lyrics swirled out of her like whiskey into a shot glass.

_“White shirt now red, my bloody nose  
_ _Sleepin’, you’re on your tippy-toes  
_ _Creepin’ around like no one knows  
_ _Think you’re so criminal…”_

She continued with the swoony song until the collab. In the back of her head, the image of Bellamy singing Justin Bieber tickled her until he sang it, smooth and perfect as if he’d written the song himself.

_“Gold teeth, my neck, my wrist is froze  
_ _I got more ice than, than the snow  
_ _That guy don’t act like you don’t know…”_

Clarke wanted to laugh but kept her composure through the whole song. She and Bellamy thanked the crowd for the last time on that Saturday night with Octavia shaking her head at the both of them backstage.

“Shut up,” Bellamy smiled at his sister before walking Clarke to her green room so she could change into her sweats.

“I’m going straight to sleep tonight.”

“I don’t blame you, it’s been a stressful night. You probably could have asked Khalid to do the whole show for you, I bet he wouldn’t have been opposed.”

“I know, I would have felt bad though. The fans came for me.”

“Your health is important to them too.”

Clarke nodded. She thought about everything that’s happened since the tour started. The good and the bad, the things she didn’t want to think but did. Her presumptions about Bellamy and how he proved her wrong in three weeks. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, I just think you should know that they’ll be okay if you take a night or two off.”

“We have days off,” she noted. “After tomorrow we have a day off in Providence. And then three after Boston.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. No one wants your health backsliding.”

“Are you just saying this because of the sex?”

“No. I think in the long run, having a special guest take over for the night would be good. How much easier was it tonight with Khalid joining you for a few songs?”

Clarke sighed, knowing that he had a point even though she didn’t like it. “I’ll talk to Anya. It’s not going to be a big thing, maybe add someone in if possible, but not a whole take over. I can’t do that.”

“You mean add a third act to the show when we’re halfway through?”

“Maybe. I think if I say something it would be better than if Anya or Lincoln have to.”

“The lesser of two evils.”

“Just think, I was headlining without an opener for so long!”

“You’d be dead.”

“Probably. I’m glad you guys are here,” Clarke smiled at him softly.

* * *

Bellamy jolted at the blaring alarm waking him up before realizing that it was his ringtone. There was only one person who would call him that late. Panic scrambled his vision. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked without looking at the caller ID.

“I can’t sleep.”

His fingers curled around the phone. “Clarke?” he asked futilely, hoping his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. 

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I thought… doesn’t matter. What do you need?”

“Uh, you? I was about to head to your room when I realized that I don’t know where you’re staying.”

“I’m down the hall. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I can come to you.”

“It’s fine. I’m up anyway.”

“Okay.”

A minute later, Bellamy was knocking on the door to Clarke’s suite wearing a super soft robe with the hotel symbol embroidered on the breast, the slippers too. Her smile, infectious as it was, couldn’t remove the worry in his face. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just couldn’t sleep and thought maybe you were in the same boat.”

“I wasn’t but my phone nearly gave me a heart attack so I’m up.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a frown. “Why do you have your volume on while you sleep?”

“I forgot to turn it off,” he lied through his teeth, and Clarke furrowed her brows in a way he hoped was acceptance.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“All right, let's get you to bed, Princess,” he said, his heart full of lead with the lie he told her mixed with the cute pet name. He couldn’t get Echo out of his head tonight.

“I can hear you thinking so hard,” Clarke said ten minutes after they laid down, Bellamy’s chest pressing against her back with every breath he took. His hand lightly holding her hip as his fingers rubbed soothing circles into her soft pale skin.

“You’re not the only one with a complicated past that you keep hidden.”

“Is that what you think I do when you ask me questions?”

“You dodge and I know it’s because the public has this view of you sleeping with everyone you’re seen with and there was always drama in Silver Linings—ironic name considering all that, by the way—but I’m not everyone. If you told me the truth, I’d keep your confidence in my secrecy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You realize that you wanted to end this tonight and you called me?”

“Yeah… I know.”

“So why me?”

“Because it’s easy with you. In a good way and maybe that’s what scares me. I’m not ready for anything more than the fun we’re having and maybe I shouldn’t be ready for that but I am and I don’t regret that. I still feel like I’m betraying him though.”

“Finn?”

“No. Someone…” she said sleepily, Bellamy wrapped around her as she slipped off into sleep. 

* * *

“She’s fine,” Clarke heard vaguely as she woke up and tried rolling over as gently as she could. The worst part about her back brace was the lack of mobility. She didn’t miss it.

“Because I’m with her… she called me last night… because I keep thinking Echo will call… That’s not a conversation for right now, Anya… I promise you, I’m not going to fuck with her head… Did she talk to you last night?... If she didn’t talk to you then I’m not going to say anything. It’s her business and so it’s not my place. I should get back. She might wake up with me gone.”

A minute later Bellamy walked in and stopped at the sight of Clarke pointedly staring at the door to the rest of her suite. “Hey,” he smiled softly at her.

“Why did Anya call you?”

“She’s… you scared the hell out of all of us yesterday. She doesn’t want us doing anything and I don’t blame her. I’m actually with her on that.”

“Even if I tell you I’m soaking wet and this overprotective look on you is really turning me on.”

“Clarke… you know that I want to touch you. You know that all I want to do is bury myself deep inside you and make you come countless times. But the reality is that your back can’t handle that right now. I’m not going to risk your health for twenty minutes of debauchery.”

“Only twenty?” Clarke’s brow quirked up at him teasingly.

“Clarke…” he scolded.

“I’m joking.”

“But you’re not,” he countered.

“Who wouldn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Someone with a broken back.”

“That wouldn’t stop your fans.”

“I don’t fuck fans. I don’t do this for fans. I’m here because my family was a wreck and we were offered a record deal for being us. My music sucks because I’m not that angsty kid anymore, I’m a grown man with money and a house and a roof over my head. I have no right to complain about anything. I have nothing to write about that my fans want to hear.”

“You’re not over something. It’s very clear that you’re hiding something and it’s traumatic so whatever it is, Bellamy, that’s what you should write about.”

“I lost someone.”

“I gathered. Who?”

“No, this needs to be some tit for tat. If you don’t tell me something real then I’m not going to tell you this.”

“My best friend was driving the car that hit me.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah. I… I don’t talk about it. By the time I could defend him and set the story straight, it was three months after the fact. My PR team said it didn’t make sense to do that so I didn’t. His dad and I are okay, it’s weird to think that his dad is still in my life when he’s not.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since kindergarten. We grew up together and everyone thought we would get married someday.”

She neglected to mention they actually had.

“I’m sorry. Do you think you would have if he were still here?”

“Um… we—we did.”

“Wait, you’re married?”

“Technically widowed.”

“Shit, Clarke, I… I’m so sorry.”

Clarke sighed and rolled onto her side to look at Bellamy directly. “It’s going to sound fucked up, but I never really saw him as an option until after everything with Finn went down. He… he made me feel safe and loved and I needed that. I hopped from one relationship to another, it’s what I do and I can’t do that. I can’t skip over mourning him.”

“Clarke, I… if you want me to step back, if you want more time, just tell me. I won’t be offended or hurt.” he lied. 

It was only a small one. Of course, he’d be hurt but he would get over it. He’d still be in her life; they’d still tour together but they wouldn’t have “fun” anymore. “Whatever you need, I’m okay with it.”

“No, I… if he were still here I would probably still have trouble… I think I would still be uncomfortable in my own skin. Maybe it would have been better, easier if he were here because I would have gotten back on the horse sooner.” 

She choked out a laugh but pressed on. “I don’t think I’d be here. I don’t… I think he’d be really disappointed in me for going on tour so soon, for continuing to push myself. I shouldn’t have done this, Bellamy. My mom told me that. Thelonious told me that and I keep hearing him call out my bullshit lies that I’ve told people about the accident and my relationships since Finn and they’re so embedded in my persona that I can’t tell the truth about it all. If I even talk about Wells or Silver Linings it’s construed into something it isn’t.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Clarke. I want to help you but I can’t if you don’t let me.”

“Thank you, but I don’t know what kind of help I need.”

“So should I stick around or—?”

“Yes,” she said quickly without thinking. She wanted to mourn Wells and respect him and his loss but she’s comfortable around Bellamy. That’s more than she could say about a lot of people she spent her time around. “I know that sounds confusing, but I like spending time with you and I’m sure we can write some more amazing songs. Would you hate just being my friend right now? Maybe some benefits later on?”

“No. Friends with you sounds pretty great right now. Just know that I am going to taste you again by the end of the tour and you’re going to beg me for it.”

“I don’t beg, Blake.”

“Oh, you will. I can guarantee it,” Bellamy said with a smirk.

Clarke propped up the guitar and started strumming, getting a stroke of inspiration.

* * *

“I can’t keep doing this,” Lincoln said as he paced the room and Octavia grimaced, looking up at him in the middle of the triangle pose.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re my wife and I love you, but I’m here to do a job and being around you doesn’t allow me to see that.”

“Are you asking me for space when we live on a tour bus and in hotel rooms?” Octavia asked dropping her arms and stood properly, turning to her husband, looking more understanding than Lincoln thought she would have. “You don’t have to do everything with me, I enjoy spending time with you but we don’t have to do everything together. I’ve been wondering when you realized you had a job and not just spend your time with me. I’m not saying that I don’t love and appreciate it and we’re still in the honeymoon phase and some time apart might do us some good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Linc. You’re the best part of my life and I love every moment I spend with you but I think we both need some time apart from one another so it’s still special.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Lincoln kissed her head and Octavia smiled at him.

“Hey, um, is it…” Octavia shook her head. She didn’t want to push Lincoln, not after him saying all that about her distracting him from his job. “Never mind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing, it can wait.”

“Are you sure?” Lincoln asked, stepping closer and touching her shoulder. “You know I don’t like secrets between us.”

“Would it be weird if we started trying? To have a baby? I know we’re on tour but I wouldn’t be going into my second trimester until long after the tour is over. I don’t want to distract you from work either, but we talked about this on our honeymoon and—“

Lincoln silenced Octavia as his lips slammed into hers, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. “Of course we can start trying. When… when did you change your mind?”

“I don’t know,” Octavia said with a shrug and leaned in to kiss Lincoln again. “I just feel like it’s a good time and we’re in a good place.”

“We are,” Lincoln said with a smile. “Are you talking right now or this week?”

“I mean… right now would be pretty awesome.”

“Clarke’s hopefully resting so I should be free all afternoon.”

Octavia smiled. “We have Bell’s birthday dinner at six.”

“I think I can ravish you quite well in the next four hours and still have you ready for your brother’s dinner.”

* * *

Bellamy hated his birthday. It was a known fact to everyone in the band and on his team that it was just another day that passed. 

Growing up poor and taking care of his sister was a priority was probably what made him hate his birthday, hers was just a month behind his and he sacrificed his presents so she could get better ones.

He wasn’t a gracious man when it came to receiving gifts or praise. The satisfaction of hearing a woman come was the only thing he could accept as praise.

Spending the day with Clarke was as good of a birthday that he could ask for. He didn’t spend his birthday with Gina and, while on tour, they went out for a nice dinner and that was about it. But sitting in bed with Clarke, writing moody songs about ex-lovers was the best way to spend his twenty-ninth birthday.

Three songs, one about Gina, another about Wells and maybe the last was about healing, working on getting over both Gina and Wells. They were getting there. Not perfectly, no, and it probably never would be, but hopefully they'd be far enough from their traumas for their friendship to deepen.

“Your dinner is in an hour,” Clarke said in the middle of strumming some melody she thought of for another song. She was always amazed at how quickly inspiration seemed to strike when they were together.

“Yeah, I should probably get ready,” he said with a sigh. He didn’t want to go, he was happy with how his day was going already. “You should come.”

“Really? I mean, it’s for the band, I heard Pike isn’t even invited.”

“It’s my birthday. If they have a problem with me inviting an extra guest then we’ll go somewhere else.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “If they have a problem with it then I’ll come back here and you’ll enjoy your dinner. It’s fine. Not like we can’t be seen in public together without the world freaking out anyway.”

“Fuck them. All that matters is that we know the truth.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Mmm,” Bellamy hummed. “I’m gonna leave for you to get all sexy for me.”

“Oh, yeah. My back brace is so sexy,” Clarke deadpanned, wincing as she tried to stand on her own. The shooting pain was a shock to her system. 

Bellamy, his voice soft and caring, came to her aid. , “You looked perfect on stage last night, I do not doubt that you could do that again.”

“There’s that sweet talk that would make any woman swoon.”

“But not you?” 

“Maybe under different circumstances.”

Bellamy scoffed out a laugh and took a step back, the temptation to make out with/plant a kiss on/kiss her was there, but he knew that they shouldn't. “I’ll meet you downstairs in forty-five minutes?”

“Could you come back here? I’m going to need help zipping up my dress.”

* * *

_**Bellarke in NYC; justjared.com** _

_If Bellarke fans aren’t going crazy already, they should be after this birthday weekend in New York. On Saturday night at her concert, Clarke Griffin brought out Khalid, one of Bellamy Blake’s current favorite artists. Due to scheduling, Khalid couldn’t make it on Sunday for Bellamy’s actual birthday so it was an early birthday present._

_During Khalid‘s performance, both Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake performed with him and shared an immensely cute hug that had Bellarkers S.C.R.E.A.M.I.N.G. in hopes of the ship’s confirmation._

_Sunday during the day neither of them was seen outside of the hotel, nor in the halls of the hotel making fans believe that they were locked in a hotel room together celebrating Bellamy’s birthday. And if you know anything about THE DELINQUENTS you know that for all of the band members birthdays they go out to dinner as a group and it’s very exclusive. Lincoln, a well known physical therapist to the stars, also married to Octavia Blake and Clarke Griffin’s PT on tour was allowed to go for the first time in four years that he’s been dating Octavia._

_That being said, having Clarke Griffin arrive in a red dress to the same restaurant with Bellamy Blake is something that everyone should be looking into a little more closely. Clarke Griffin supposedly is single as is Bellamy Blake and yet she’s invited to his exclusive THE DELINQUENTS band-only birthday dinner. Maybe she’s an honorary member because they wrote I Think I’m OKAY with Bellamy a few weeks ago and they’re close due to that? We’re still hoping that they’re endgame; they’re our OTP._

_[Insert 2 grainy photos of Bellarke & Co. at dinner through the restaurant window.]_

_After dinner that Sunday evening, the whole gang took a limo to their last New York concert of their tour. The Delinquents was saucy as always and played a cover of Hot Mess by Kinsey. Which, if you don’t know, there’s a line in the chorus: “You keep burning me/ I keep burning for you/ In that red dress.”_

_Um, are we not supposed to read into that?_

_Anyway, these two are either extremely in denial, or they’re playing us all well, or they’re both very close new friends that have too many coincidences surrounding them. Regardless of their actual status, they both look happy, which is something new for both of them. Whatever they’ve been going through, they seem to be good for each other._

* * *

“Good birthday?” Octavia asked once they were all settled on the bus the next day heading to Providence.

“One of the best.”

“Because you spent the day with Clarke?”

Bellamy sighed. “Don’t, please. We’re friends. I know that and I’m not going to do anything to ruin it. We wrote about grieving and working on getting past everything. I’m getting over Gina and she’s working on moving past her accident. They’re some great songs.”

“More than one in one day?”

“We had all day and bouncing ideas off each other is helpful.”

Octavia nodded. “So you’re not into her?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“She needs to work on herself and I’m…” Bellamy didn’t have the words for what he was doing. He was waiting for Clarke to be ready but he wasn’t sure if he even was. 

“You’re what?”

“I haven’t been doing the same and I probably should since I’m trying to be with her.”

“Are you fully admitting it?”

“Yes, O. I like her and I’m letting her take her time to get better and to… fuck it, she was married. He—he was driving the car that hit her and I guess he was taking care of her while he was bleeding out. I would have done the same thing so I don’t blame him. She never corrected anyone because it was months after the fact and the tabloids reporting her with Finn and Raven and Lexa and Niylah were just tabloid rumors while she was with Wells.”

“Wow, that’s… she told you?”

“She trusts me.”

“And you told me?”

“I’m trusting you,” Bellamy offered with a smirk, Octavia knew better than to spread gossip.

“I won’t say anything.

“Thank you.”

* * *

Providence and Boston both went off without a hitch, Clarke’s back was getting stronger with her lack of motion outside the gym with Lincoln. Bellamy spent time with her, reading her poetry book and writing some lyrics here and there. The songwriting was a little more stilted than before and Bellamy wondered if it was because they worked so well together before that she was getting a little gun shy, or worried that he wouldn’t give her credit and royalties for her part in the songwriting. 

Crossing over into Canada for a few weeks, they had a few days off in Montreal. Clarke was writing a song in her hotel suite when someone banged hard on her door. Anya would have stormed in, already having a key, and Lincoln would have texted first. Bellamy was a three hard and steady knocks kind of guy so it wasn’t him.

Clarke looked through the peephole and sighed, opening the door. “Octavia? What’s going on?”

“Bonding. You, Bell, and Lincoln spend so much time together, you’re practically all I hear about so I want to get to know you, the woman who has all the men around me infatuated.”

“All the men?”

“Miller and Murphy complain about Bellamy spending all his time with you,” Octavia informed and Clarke swallowed. “It’s not a bad thing; if they’re not complaining about you and Bellamy, they’d be complaining about something else. Anyway, let’s have a girl’s day. I figured you wouldn’t want Anya involved so I called someone you went to college with and someone whose husband would distract Bellamy.”

Clarke grimaced. She knew someone who was married? 

Then down the hall, suddenly, the elevator doors opened and Clarke’s eyes widened.

“Clarke!” Harper called, running down the hallway to the room and hugging Clarke tightly. “Octavia, you didn’t say-”

“Who did you think I was on tour with? You knew!”

“No, I… Okay, but I didn’t think that you would… never mind. Clarke, it’s been forever!”

“It has! What are you doing in Montreal, I know Monty wouldn’t just hop a plane to Canada for no reason.”

“We were in the middle of moving to Boston. Monty’s a professor at MIT starting in August.”

“Oh my… wow! I think I called that back in college.”

“You did but you didn’t bet on it so you get nothing. Jasper told me to tell you that.”

Clarke scoffed. “So what does a... girls’ day entail exactly?”

“The spa,” Harper and Octavia said together, matter-of-factly.

When they said the spa, Clarke thought that they meant the hotel spa where they would get seaweed wraps and facials but no. They meant all that plus massages and mani/pedi's and even getting their hair done. That was the last thing on the list because Clarke had a dinner meeting with someone she didn’t exactly remember the name of, Anya was going to be there too.

Sitting in the chair after getting her hair washed - and deep conditioning treatment - the hairstylist asked if she wanted a trim. Truly she needed it. Long hair and a back brace didn’t go well together. She’d agreed almost instantly, trying to think of what else she wanted that would churn in her mother’s stomach. 

Her mother had forced highlights on her since childhood, her mother’s way of controlling her under the guise of convincing people Clarke was hers. Clarke had gotten out from under her thumb, but Abigail Griffin’s influence haunted her.

With those thoughts in mind, Clarke walked out of the salon with a bob and a streak of red in her hair that Harper and Octavia simply gushed over. It was strange having girlfriends again. She hadn’t had them since Silver Linings fell apart. Raven. Lexa. Costia, too… Clarke idly wondered how much of their break-up was due to the rumors, and how much of it was because of her.

They got their nails done too. The three of them sitting in a row of pedicure chairs, laughing and gossiping about their lives and sex lives. 

Clarke held back of course. She couldn’t mention Bellamy without grossing out Octavia and she couldn’t bring up Wells without tearing up or having to tell them that everything about her in the tabloids was a lie just to maintain the illusion of a private life while being abnormally famous. Of course, that didn’t last long.

“Clarke, you haven’t said a word in a half-hour,” Harper noted and Clarke looked up at the two girls to her left waiting for her to share.

“I… I’m fucking her brother, she doesn’t want to hear about that.”

“They’re ‘having fun’,” Octavia told Harper practically with air quotes.

“I’m not ready for anything serious and he doesn’t seem to be over Gina either. We’re having fun except I can’t right now,” Clarke said and it was kind of a lie. She was cleared two days ago but she’s being wary and not risking her back again. She didn’t want to scare herself or anyone else like she did in New York.

“That’s a load of bull. You haven’t been with anyone since Lexa and you can’t say that you’re not over her.”

“I am.”

“Exactly, so why aren’t you ready?”

Maybe trusting people with the truth would be a good thing. Maybe showing them how you loving people gets them hurt wasn’t what she wanted for Bellamy. “Because my husband died and I can’t bring anyone into the aftermath of that mess until I can wrap my head around it all. I don’t know what you want me to say, Octavia. I care about your brother, I care enough to not let him get hurt because I’m not over my husband’s sudden death.”

“Clarke,” Octavia choked out as Harper reached over and grabbed Clarke’s hand, holding it tight. “We didn’t…”

“It wasn’t in the press or made public. The accident…” Clarke went on, describing everything. 

“Wells,” Harper said, her face solemn. They’d all gone to college together, Harper knew Wells and how bad he’d had it for Clarke. Clarke had watched her make the connections. Wells had become the manager of Silver Linings back in the day, undoubtedly helping the two of them get closer. “No one even guessed that. How did you keep it a secret?”

“No one knew aside from our parents. I wasn’t trying to hide my life from my fans, it just happened. I… we wanted kids. We were trying and… I didn’t even know before I lost it and I’m scared.”

“Clarke,” Harper reached for her, not knowing what to say. 

“You’re afraid of it happening with Bellamy,” Octavia stated and the guilt gnawing in Clarke’s stomach came back with full force vengeance.

“Do you blame me? I miscarried before and…”

“You’re not trying to get pregnant, are you?”

“No. God, no, I’m not ready for that at all. I’m…”

“Octavia, she’s falling for him, how do you not see that?” Harper stated, clear as day and Clarke looked down at her toenails getting painted a champagne color. 

She didn’t want to hide her feelings anymore.


	8. Don’t You Want Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while. How have you been? Not going to lie, the last month has been rough for me, but I’m better. The holiday season is over and I can get back to business as usual. Writing, working, writing, eating. I make shittier jokes now ;)
> 
> Anyway, back to business...

**Monday, August 14, 2017**

_Los Angeles, CA_

Bellamy groaned at the sound of the blaring alarm from the other side of the bed. Gina was usually pretty good about turning it off before it woke him so he figured she’d turn it off in a moment.

No dice. 

“Babe, come on. Turn it off, it isn’t funny.” He groaned and lifted his head up to find her side of the bed empty and jolted to his feet. He shut off the alarm and ran down the stairs in a panic, just to find her sipping coffee and scrolling through Instagram. “Thank God,” he said, heart beating out of his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and placed a kiss to her temple. “You scared the shit out of me with that alarm.”

“I have an early meeting and so do you.”

Bellamy groaned, dropping his head on her shoulder. _Why do they have to have band meetings so God damned early?_

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bellamy said, referring to her boss, as he pressed soft kisses into her shoulders and along her neck, sucking gently against her pulse point. 

“I know,” she said breathily and Bellamy smirked. He loved getting her worked up in the morning before she left for work so she could think about him all day and pounce on him the moment she came home.

He even wrote a song about it.

Bellamy pushed her hair out of his way and dragged his lips ever so softly against the shell of her ear. “Stay home with me,” he whispered. “I want to worship your perfect body. You’re everything.”

His tongue traced down the shell of her ear before he nipped at her jaw. She stood immediately, pulling away from him. 

“Grow up,” she snapped. “You have a job that you _actually_ need to do, and so do I.”

But, even then, she was holding back. He could sense all of the horrible things that were caught in the back of her throat. No matter how bad he, she, or both of them wanted to fuck, she’d snap him back into reality. Sex never came before work; not to Gina.

It’s what Bellamy loved about her.

“You’re right,” he said, stepping back from her. “I’m going to shower.”

Ten minutes later, Bellamy stepped out of the bedroom showered and dressed, finding a note with his omelet from Gina.

_Sorry I had to go, there’s an accident on the 405. See you tonight_

_♥_ _G_

Bellamy smiled and devoured the omelet before he left. He had a meeting of his own today; one with his manager, Charles Pike, at the latter’s own home. 

It was common knowledge that if Bellamy wasn’t home, he was at his manager’s house. It didn’t take long for the police to find him. 

Gina Martin had been driving her car to her office in La Brea. The other driver, speeding and running late due to an accident on 405, had t-boned her car in the midst of thinking he’d make it through a yellow light at the intersection. The light had changed too quickly and Gina died on impact. Direct collision. Probably didn’t even have time to register any pain.

Bellamy memorized every word that the officers said. Of course, their language had been more clinical, more sympathetic. He’d memorized the little scuff atop one of their boots and the fact that the other was balding. Bellamy remembered every little detail of those five minutes up until Pike and Murphy had to hold him back from assaulting one of the officers. Octavia tried holding him together but it was no use. He was already the shell of the person they knew, there was no coming back for Bellamy Blake.

* * *

**Saturday, November 18, 2017**

_Miami, Florida_

Clarke hated that she still had to go on tour with the people that blindsided her. She hated that she had to see them every day for another month and that they don’t even seem to be phased by the change in dynamic since they told her. Sure, they were helping her cover up her marriage to their manager by causing drama within their band for publicity to cover up her and Wells’ truth, but didn’t they see that if the band were to break up or just kick her out, that Wells would leave too? He’s been with her through everything and they’re married now, he wouldn’t stay with them after they drop Clarke. The worst part was that they didn’t just blindside her, but they blindsided him as well. Why would they think that he would do them any favors to make their mistake look good? _They_ were walking away from Clarke; why wouldn’t her husband walk away from _them_ in return?

“How was soundcheck?” he asked when he answered the phone.

“Sucked, I hate that you weren’t here with me. They’re acting like we’re all friends and that I’m not being betrayed.”

Wells sighed. “I’ll be at the venue in three minutes, where are you?”

“I’m walking across the street to Starbucks, do you want anything?”

“You know I’m off caffeine.”

“Right.”

“A cookie please.”

Clarke laughed. “Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up, we’ll go to the beach before the show tonight.”

“Have I mentioned that I love you?”

She heard Wells’ laugh on the other end of the line, causing her to smile. “Yeah, baby, I know. I love you too. Go get your coffee, I’ll see you in a minute.”

They hung up the phone and Clarke opened the door to Starbucks and waited to order her coffee and Wells’ cookie before getting them and heading back outside.

Clarke loved the first sip of coffee more than anything;, it kept her going even in the eighty-five degree November Miami heat. She licked the wayward drop of coffee off her lips and saw Wells’ rental come around the corner. She smiled, knowing that the rest of the tour was going to be amazing with him by her side.

The cross walk sign changed to let people walk across the street and Clarke crossed so that she would be on the right side for Wells to pick her up.

She didn’t see the little girl. Wells hadn’t either, and he’d yanked at the steering wheel with everything he had to avoid hitting her. 

It was strange - being hit by a car and not knowing it until she was already on the ground, surrounded by wreckage; the cracked windshield, the damaged hood.

Her breath escaped her and terror filled her. She saw Wells, kneeling next to her. A windshield wiper jutted out of his chest but, at the time, she hadn’t known that, hadn’t seen it.

Vaguely hearing a mother screaming at her child and the child crying and apologizing, Clarke couldn’t stop looking over Wells’ face, memorizing it as though she would forget the face of the man that’s been with her since kindergarten. The boy who grew up with her, the one she’d friend-zoned, the man who’s shoulder she cried on after every heartbreak before truly _seeing_ him.

“Wells?” Clarke panted, unable to catch her breath. Tears pooling and streaming out of her. Trying to reach out to him but couldn’t seem to get her arms to do anything.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t see her. I didn’t think it would… I don’t know, it happened so fast. I don’t understand…”

“Didn’t see who?”

“The girl, she stepped out and I couldn’t stop, I swerved. I swerved into you and… oh, God. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Clarke cried and it took everything in her not to close her eyes, even as her vision filled with blackness . “I love you.”

“I will always love you,” he said with tears streaming down his cheeks and Clarke prayed that he wasn’t giving up on her. By now she’d gone numb from the pain. She couldn’t move or register the pain in Wells’ face right next to hers. 

“Wells… Wells, I’m—I’m scared. I can’t feel anything.”

“You’re going to be okay, Clarke. We’re going to be okay.”

“Please let me go. If I… I need you to let me go.” It was getting difficult to swallow. She needed to but her throat wouldn’t allow it. 

“Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to wake up and everything’s going to be normal. You’re going to go home and sleep in our bed.”

“With you,” Clarke choked out, dark liquid jumping out from between her lips.

“Clarke…” he said her name a final time, but she couldn’t fight her eyelids anymore or make out the rest of it. She wanted to stay with Wells but the pain was too much. She needed to get away from the pain.

She needed to get away from the pain.

_When the pain is too much,_

_I dive deeper into your love._

* * *

**Sunday, July 14, 2019**

“This is awkward,” Bellamy said with a firm grimace, avoiding Lincoln’s gaze as much as possible.

“You’re the one making it awkward.”

“You’re my brother in law and it feels like I’m asking you for sex advice.”

“Are you?” Lincoln asked coolly.

“No! I mean… fuck, kind of. Clarke, I know she’s still working that brace and it makes sense for her too. I just… I see her frustration and… god, sometimes she looks at me like she can’t wait to tear my clothes off and it’s sexy as hell, but…” 

Bellamy sighed; he wasn't particularly loquacious, especially when it came to his brother in law. He should try changing that. “But I need to know what I can do. What _she and I_ can do... this is weird.”

“It wouldn’t be if you didn’t ignore me reaching out to you for years,” Lincoln said with a smirk that Bellamy wanted to slap off his face, mostly because he had a point.

“It would still be awkward. I’m asking you about sex and you and my sister… I’m just gonna go—“

“Bellamy, you want to help Clarke, I get that.” Lincoln folded his arms over the table,pushing his empty plate into the middle. “You remember how Octavia and I started, so you know that I know how you’re feeling and that you’re struggling. There’s no way that you can both get off without her getting hurt.

Bellamy groaned in frustration, shutting his eyes as Lincoln continued with this grueling topic, who would want to hear about their sister’s sex life?

“You can give her a lot so she’s not as stressed but you can’t _receive_ without her getting hurt. There’s no easy way for that to happen. You’ll feel used or she’ll feel like she’s using you. It’ll get between you and if you care about her the way that I think you do, you don’t want that to happen.”

“I want her healthy and her stressing isn’t good for her rehab, right? That’s what you and Octavia tried selling me.”

“You didn’t buy it. It was half true, we got married to prove the other half.”

Bellamy laughed. Lincoln wasn’t a bad guy, after all. They probably could have been friends. Bellamy had focused so much on Clarke lately - the idea of making friends with anyone almost seemed foreign to him.

“Will you at least keep me in the loop with her? Let me know if it changes and she can… reciprocate?”

Lincoln held back a laugh. “Yeah, Bellamy. I’ll let you know when you can get laid again.”

“That’s not…I could… fuck.”. It was like everyone always tried to see through him instead of know him, and they always saw his relationship with Clarke as nothing more than a steady fuck while on tour.

“You really like her.”

The words fell into Bellamy’s ears, bricks clattering against dried wood.

“More than I should.” Bellamy swallowed, the honesty overwhelming him. “Lincoln, I… I’ve never written music this fast or honestly in my whole life, ever since I met her. Never wrote more than one song with someone else.” Bellamy wiped his hands down his face. “Losing her would be like…”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he said, afraid the words might bite back at him. “I need to move on with my life. I’m not completely over Gina, but I need to… I can’t keep waking up in the middle of the night guilty that she’s not there next to me.”

“Losing Gina was traumatic for _all_ of us,” Lincoln said, his voice thickening. “I know it’s difficult for you to talk about but _Clarke_ has some trauma too. Maybe if you open up to her... then maybe she will open up to you too.”

“I already know about Wells. She told me in New York but didn’t tell me that you-”

“She doesn’t know that I do. Anya made sure that I did before I took the job because she didn’t want Clarke making any excuses that I couldn’t counter. I was also told to use him to guilt her into doing whatever exercise she was avoiding but I think using sex with you as incentive might work a little better.”

“I’m not going to play along with that.”

“You already said that you’re not going to fuck her until she’s healed.”

“I mean, not that far away, hopefully, it’s basically never. You told me it was a day to day thing and that there’s better and okay. Not good and great, same as Octavia.”

“She’s always exceeded expectations, hasn’t she?”

Bellamy cocked his brow. “The class clown who somehow got ninety on every exam, yeah, she’s something else.”

* * *

“Long time no smile,” Monty said when Bellamy walked into the room.

He rolled his eyes as he hugged his favorite producer’s best friend.“Hey, man!” Bellamy said as he pulled away, unable to stop himself from beaming with happiness.

“Seriously, I’ve missed this smile but it’s creepy.”

“Why do you think I’ve been avoiding him all tour,” Murphy commented.

Miller rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind Murphy, he’s been sexting his girl all tour, that’s why he hasn’t been around. Bellamy here has been with Clarke every second he gets.”

“Really? Harper and I went to college with her and… Wells.”

Bellamy blinked. “So you knew-?”

“We were the witnesses,” Monty explained, Miller and Murphy looking confused whereas Bellamy simply nodded his head. They were at the wedding.

“It’s super fucked to say this, but the pictures she’s been posting on Instagram behind the scenes and onstage, she looks happier than she did back then. Even in college she never looked happy. I know they were happy, but whatever is going on here is better than that.”

“Don’t give the poor sap any more hope,” Miller chided. “Clarke’s turned him down.”

“That’s not what happened,” Bellamy said grimacing at his friend who was smirking at him.

“Then tell us exactly what happened.”

“Look, she… her back got worse so we stopped. We’re friends and I’m good with that.”

“Your mouth says one thing but your face says another,” Murphy sang and Bellamy rolled his eyes.

Hanging out with Monty after so many years was a lot of fun, catching up on his life, that he and Harper are moving to Boston because he’s a new professor at MIT, Bellamy was a little jealous. If he hadn’t become a rockstar, college professor in Greco-Roman history was his fall back. He’s still happy for his friend and even more so when he mentioned that Harper’s pregnant. Bellamy always knew that they would be amazing parents and that any child being raised by them were lucky to have such kind and loving parents.

He was three glasses of whiskey deep when the girls arrived back from their spa day and Bellamy immediately stood at the sight of Clarke with her short, chin length hair with a red/pink strand sticking out on the left side of her head. It was sexy as hell and he was already half hard, just by her strut into the room. Even flanked by his sister and Harper, Bellamy’s eyes couldn’t leave Clarke.

He met her halfway and she smiled up at him. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hi. How drunk are you?”

“Three. Two more and you could have your way with me.”

“One more and whiskey dick will set in,” Clarke countered, bemused. She had a point, Bellamy wasn’t the best drunk, not that she would know though.

“Octavia tell you that?”

“Harper, but now I’m wondering how your sister would know,” she quipped with a smirk and Bellamy wanted to do dastardly things to her for that comment alone.

“We get it, you’re in love,” Octavia yelled. “Come join the damn party!”

Bellamy watched Clarke’s eyes widen at his sister’s words and Bellamy stepped a little closer to her. His lips at her ear, “Don’t let her get to you. We know our truth.”

Clarke smiled at his words because it was true, just like with the tabloids. They didn’t know the truth, only Bellamy and Clarke did, and their small group of friends whom they told some of the truth but not all of it.

After spending hours in the hotel bar laughing and telling stories of tour and of their lives, everyone was exhausted and that was before finding out that it was three in the morning.

“We are probably keeping that guy here past his shift,” Lincoln commented first, sitting down after bringing them all their new round.

Monty looked to Harper next to him, who seemed to be teetering on the edge of consciousness. “Yeah, we should probably get some sleep, we haven’t stayed up this late since that New Year’s party in what was it, 2016? We’re getting old.”

Bellamy laughed and looked to Clarke, whose head was on Octavia’s shoulder and it looked like they were whispering about something but they both looked too exhausted themselves. “You’re still coming to the concert tomorrow night, right?”

“Nothing is going to stop us from that,” Monty said back as he stood and helped Harper up out of her own chair. “Have a good rest of your night, guys.”

Bellamy wasn’t tired in the slightest and so he let everyone head upstairs while he handled the extravagant tab that eight people accumulated over six hours of drinking.

“How will you be paying?” the guy asked, looking more annoyed than someone in the service business should.

“Can you split it between some of our rooms? I’ll pay the rest.”

“What rooms?”

Bellamy rattled off Miller, Murphy, and Octavia’s rooms, telling him to split fifty percent between them and that he would pay the rest. After paying he walked out of the bar and found Clarke leaning up against the wall next to the door.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t want Monty and Harper paying and you barely drank because of your meds so I paid. I was happy to.”

Clarke pushed off the wall and started walking towards the elevators. “Yeah, but you don’t have to take care of everyone all the time.”

“I don’t,” Bellamy told her, following close behind and hitting the elevator button once they got there.

“Okay, you don’t have to take care of _me_ all the time,” she amended and Bellamy grimaced. “Don’t I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she grimaced as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

“You can’t take care of yourself. I’m not saying that to be rude or mean, it’s just the truth. If I don’t order room service when we’re writing, you don’t even think about it. You’re avoiding talking to Anya about getting a third act because you don’t want to upset your fans who only care about your health and want you to get better. You don’t want to get hurt again so you keep everyone at arm’s length even after they prove their loyalty to you time and again. That’s before we even talk about Wells and subsequently us.”

Clarke scoffed. “I was going to suggest we quit wasting hotel rooms and just split one but I’m really glad you have your own tonight. Good night, Bellamy.”

* * *

Clarke knocked on the door she’s been dreading for days and when the door opened, she stepped inside.

“Everything alright?” The woman asked and Clarke grimaced, looking out the window over the Montreal skyline.

“I’ve been avoiding this because… well, I’m mostly scared. The backlash might not be the best.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I talked to Bellamy about it and he said that he didn’t care what Pike said, it’s for my health so everyone would be on board. I want to add someone onto the show, shorten both The Delinquent’s and my time onstage.”

“Knowing you, you already have someone in mind.”

“Pandemonium.”

“Josie? Are you sure you want to open that can of worms?”

“She and Gabriel are good now, they’re steady. It’s what drove her crazy, thinking he was with me when it was just a love song devoted to her. He loves her.”

“Honestly, it feels like it’s been 200 years worth of drama with those two.”

Clarke laughed, it was nearly the same with her and everyone in Silver Linings. All the drama was exhausting and looking back now, she’s relieved that they broke up. Relieved that the drama was past her and the whole Bellarke thing stirring up drama wasn’t what she planned for this tour but it’s mostly been nonexistent which was good but also sucked dealing with.

“Are you sure about this? Once I make that call, there’s no going back.”

“I know and I’m sure. It’s been on my mind for days, you know that I’ve thought of every reason why we shouldn’t but the pros outweigh the cons. The only pro being my back.”

Anya laughed. “Okay. Is there a reason you’re doing this at three in the morning?”

Clarke looked at the ground with a sigh, as if Anya didn’t already know.

“What did he do?”

“He reminded me that I’ve been stalling with this, that if I really want to get better and to stay on tour then I would have done this days ago.”

“So you don’t want to get better?”

“No, of course I do. I just want the fans to be happy. To love the concert more than I’ve put into it, I backslid in New York and I’m terrified it’s going to happen again. I want to heal and I want to make my fans happy. This does both, just without Arrow and Seeing Smoke on the set list.”

“They’re your favorites.”

“But they’re not the fans’ favorites and that’s what matters. I would love to play them all but I can’t. I need to get rid of some songs to fit Pandemonium in, those two are out. I have one more and Bellamy’s going to take out three also. They get six, The Delinquents get eight and I get nine or ten plus an encore, with Bellamy or Gabriel or Josie. It’ll all happen at some point.”

“When do you want them?”

“Vancouver. Maybe Calgary if they can manage it.”

“Knowing Russell, he’ll make it happen.”

Clarke yawned. “I should get to my room. Sleep has been calling for a while.”

Anya nodded. “I’ll make sure you’re not woken up before eleven.”

“Ten would be fine. Thank you, Anya.”

“I should have an answer to you about Pandemonium by then. They work fast.”

“Especially when money is involved,” Clarke commented. Just another con on Clarke’s list against bringing them on tour, they do whatever they have to for money. Josie even sold her sex tape for money, not the publicity, though that was probably an added bonus. “Good night, Anya,” she said at the door and walked out of her manager’s suite before walking down the hall to Bellamy’s.

Should she knock and tell him that he was right? That she still would rather save the money and share a room? Should she tell him that the nightmares go away when he’s sleeping next to her, something she’s barely admitted to herself?

She was about to knock when the door flew open and Octavia was standing on the other side of the door. Clarke dropped her hand at the furious look Octavia shot her before storming past her. Catching the door before it closed, Clarke stepped into the dark suite that only had the TV illuminating the room.

“Bellamy?” She called out quietly as she stepped into the room.

“Go away!” He yelled and Clarke nearly jumped but she pressed on. She came to need him and she hated that but she’s always been a codependent person.

Stepping around the corner she found him lying on the king size mattress, his eyes shut and an empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “What did you do?”

“My father would be so proud, me following in his footsteps. Drinking my pain away, my life…”

“Bellamy, it was one time.”

“That’s what he always said. A one time slip-up, he won’t do it again and soon enough, drunk again, tossing me around the house like my body wouldn’t break if he threw me in just the right corner. Christmas of 1998 sucked, remember?”

Clarke grimaced, she didn’t have the same Christmas memories that he had, but he was certainly right about that particular Christmas.

“Yeah. It did. Do you want me to stay tonight? I’ll make sure you’re alright tonight.”

“Only Clarke makes the terrors go away.”

Her heart broke, they’re two sides of the same coin. Different traumas with the same healing source; each other. How could she deny him that? How could she deny herself that? Maybe just because they’re not over their exes doesn’t mean that they can’t be together and work on getting over them together. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?

“I’ll get her. She probably feels the same,” Clarke told him and stepped away from the bed and went to the bathroom where she knew his dopp kit was waiting with a bottle of Advil. 

She brought a glass of water out to him and made him take the Advil and the whole glass of water.

“I don’t want to need you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her after she climbed into bed.

“I know, me too, but it’s where we are. It doesn’t have to be unhealthy.”

“I can’t imagine life with you being unhealthy.”

Clarke grimaced. “We can talk about this in the morning when you’re not drunk and won’t regret what you might let slip.”

* * *

Clarke woke up with a little gasp. She’d never woken up feeling so good and she didn’t want to break the spell by opening her eyes. The realization of what was going on hit her and she moaned out a “Bell” as his lips touched her shoulder.

“What do you need?” 

His fingers rubbed her mound softly, eliciting a loud moan.

“You. I want you, please.”

“We can’t,” he said as a finger delved between her folds and slipped into her. She whined when he pulled it back, but he insisted, “The doctors put you on sex rest.”

Clarke groaned, pressing back into Bellamy’s hand. She needed more and needed him to give it to her. “Please! I need something.”

“You woke up dripping wet, baby. What were you dreaming about?”

Her mind came to a screeching halt at the answer. Wells. Being with Wells, again. She felt wrong, being here, doing this with Bellamy, with her late husband still in her thoughts.

Bellamy’s hand pulled away from her core, to her thigh and sighed in her ear. “Wells.”

Clarke turned around and found Bellamy’s gaze. His eyes were sadder than she’d ever seen them, full of silent fury. Acceptance and defiance blended together into a deep, irresistible brown, and heartbreak boiling within. . “I want this with you. You can’t... _seriously_ be mad about me having a dream when you’ve had nightmares about Gina every other night.”

“They’re not about Gina. They’re… it’s complicated,” he said, his hand idly caressing her thigh. “I’m not mad about you thinking about Wells or dreaming about him. He was the biggest part of your life for so long, I can’t possibly be mad.”

Clarke leaned up and kissed him. “You’re too good to me, I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world, Princess.”

“So do you.”

“No, I… I’ve done too many bad things, I don’t deserve the world.”

“Tell me.”

The hand on her thigh traveled a few more inches north. “I’ll tell you after.”

“You won’t.”

Bellamy’s eyes locked on hers and, for the briefest moment, she thought the world stilled. That time didn’t exist in their bubble.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” he mumbled, digging his chin between her breasts to lick at her sternum. Her brain switched off, a talent that Bellamy seemed to have mastered.

Bellamy was good with his hands; she’d known that ... _god_ did she know that. Two of his fingers entered her, filled her and crooked at just the right angle, and the pleasure of their thickness fired through her. The teasing and purposeful movements brought her closer to climax than she’s ever been so quickly.

“Bell!” she cried out and grasped his forearm, pulling him closer to her.

“I’m right here. I got you. Let go.”

“I need—“ the words died on her lips as his pinky grazed her asshole. The shock overwhelmed her. She screamed, peaking with ecstasy as Bellamy’s mouth covered hers. 

Their neighbors didn’t need to hear, after all.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Bellamy whispered, his fingers still working her through her orgasm and Clarke’s eyes locked on his face as he watched her writhe and convulse under his ministrations.

“I want to suck your dick.”

“God, I wish.”

“What?”

“It’s not good for your back. I talked to Lincoln about what we can do and you can’t do that, but I can’t seem to keep my hands off you-”

“What about a rub?”

Bellamy laughed, “I don’t see how that could hurt you but you don’t have to.”

Clarke looked between them. The tent in Bellamy’s boxers said that she did.. “I want to.”

Bellamy nodded and helped Clarke pull his boxers down, and what Clarke has noticed in their time spent together like this was that Bellamy didn’t like to receive without giving back. She’d come on his fingers just moments before, and yet his tongue delved between her insanely slick lips while Clarke’s hands stroked him.

She came twice more on Bellamy’s tongue and she managed to get her lips wrapped around him for a second as he spurted his come down her throat.

* * *

“Hello, Montreal!” Bellamy called, stepping onstage and Clarke smiled on the side stage, watching The Delinquents opening number. 

“We have a lot in store for you tonight. A new song that I can’t wait to share, along with a collab with an amazing person! You might know who she is,” Bellamy said with a blazing smirk. 

Everyone in the crowd screamed and Clarke joined in; she was excited for tonight too. She liked Montreal.

Knowing Bellamy’s little talks could get to be too long and too much, Octavia started in on the drums. Murphy came in on the bass line and Miller on guitar. Bellamy’s moody voice made every song magical in its own way, something Clarke has always tried to convey and had been failing at lately. Focusing more on her back than her voice was a healthy choice but there could be some balance in her life.

Clarke knew the order to the songs by now, waiting for her cue in _I Think I’m OKAY_ to join him on stage and there was something about singing along to songs about another woman that felt awkward to her. Knowing that they were about Gina was one thing but singing along was another.

“You’re in love with him.”

The voice came from behind. She whirled and blinked rapidly, Monty standing next to her with a casual look on his face.

“It’s been a month, I can’t…” she replied in a calm breath.

“I know. It’s been... what, nineteen months? You are allowed to move on.”

Nineteen months didn’t feel like nearly enough time.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

“Do you think he would have wanted you to beat yourself up over that? I don’t. He’d want you to memorialize him in the most Clarke Griffin way and move on. Find happiness and love again.”

“I’ve never been one for happiness.”

Monty snickered. “You and Blake, two sides of the same coin on that front.”

Clarke looked back at Bellamy who looked happy, but she knew it was all a show. He was a good showman and Clarke began to wonder if he’d been faking that around her too.

“Was he happy with her?”

“He knew how to make himself happy when she was around. It wasn’t because of her and it wouldn’t have been healthy for either of them. Finding peace and happiness within yourself is the only way to have a healthy relationship with someone else.”

“Like you and Harper?”

“We’re semi codependent in that sense. I don’t go searching for happiness in her, but I always want to be better when she’s around.”

“We’re better together,” Clarke said with a sigh, looking back out to Bellamy putting on a show for the crowd. “What if we just help each other remember why we should love ourselves?”

“That’s okay. Clarke, it’s not just about loving yourself or loving Bellamy, it’s about healing and knowing you don’t need anyone to make you happy, that you can do that on your own while choosing to share your life and your love with someone else.”

“You’re starting to sound like my therapist.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. They’re getting paid to say the right thing but, as your friend and the best man at your wedding, I’m not required to say _shit_ , especially when it comes to you falling for another man. Oh, and we both know someone who married their late husband’s best friend within a year of losing him so you’re already doing better than her.”

“This isn’t about my mom.”

“I’m sorry, am I not speaking with Clarke Taylor Griffin?”

Clarke nudged Monty with her elbow. “Hilarious. It’s not. How am I ready to move on nineteen months after losing him when I’ve known him my whole life?”

“Time is a social construct, you taught me that when I lost my mom freshman year and thought I couldn’t move past it. I did and so will you, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop loving or missing Wells, it just means that you love Bellamy while you do that.”

“He would want me to move on and be happy.”

“And that’s whatever you decide to make it. Whether it’s with Bellamy or someone else when you feel more prepared, that’s up to you. I only commented on the way you look at him. Everyone else might ignore it because he’s finally writing again, but you should have someone have your back through it all too.”

Clarke looked back at the stage, watching Bellamy tease the crowd and how the crowd was totally wrapped up in him. “Octavia set up the girls’ day yesterday and we got along really well.”

“Octavia is a good person but she’s Bellamy’s sister and _will_ be on his side if things go south between you two.”

“Do you think it will?”

“I think you’re two stubborn assholes who will either refuse to fix something or refuse to admit that it’s broken. I think your need for someone whom you love not to die is larger than want of someone to love you.”

“Add that to the long list of reasons I’m in therapy.”

And with that, Clarke nearly missed her cue, running out onstage to sing the closing song for The Delinquents and her opening song trailing behind. She was completely dreading her announcement the moment the song was over and Bellamy was walking off stage without her.


	9. Small Bump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Pandemonium signing on to the second half of the Resurrection Tour and Clarke announcing it to the world...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute... 6 weeks to be exact. I'm shit at uploading new chapters, I'm sorry. Also, regrettably unedited.  
> [Click for GMID playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=CQMUzYg9QFWQ0OSdmw0pfw)

In the music industry, there was always the “Stan” somewhere. Stan, the extreme type of fan who’d treat certain artists as dependent family members.

Clarke Griffin telling the world that she was feeling inadequate came with mixed emotions. She’d expected a stan to appear, blasting her from some blog about how she’d let her fans down because of her physical ailment, but it never came. Her fans understood and wished her well.

Pandemonium’s, now, that was a different story. They hated the fact that they couldn’t get tickets to her already sold-out concerts.

It came as a surprise when people started speculating about a Bellarke baby, clashing with the information about her back problems that were already public. She zipped through the nasty comments in the tabloids, but the question of the week was usually the same: how could Clarke Griffin be doing the same thing thousands of young women were doing every day, let alone getting pregnant? Especially when she was too injured to perform the way she normally would! 

How could Clarke Griffin be doing the horizontal tango, let alone be getting pregnant when she was so injured that she could barely perform? 

Was Clarke Griffin - no, the Clarke Griffin - now the mother of Bellamy Blake’s - yes, that Bellamy Blake - child?

“How are you feeling?” Bellamy asked after that US Weekly article came out.

“Fine. People don’t know our truth so it’s whatever.” Clarke shrugged with indifference even though her brain was working double time trying to understand the insanity that was the entertainment industry.

“I’m talking about… you know, you, Wells, and... the baby.”

“I know. I just don’t want to think about it.”

“You should talk to Diyoza about it.”

Something inside of her gave. Somewhere, a string had gone taut. 

Then, a hard sigh. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why are you so against me caring about you?” Bellamy grimaced , pulling away.

“I just don’t see what you’re getting out of it.”

His face went rigid. “Don’t push me away to make yourself more miserable than you already are.” He scoffed. “You don’t deserve to be punished for anything. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Everything’s wrong!” she lashed out. “I wouldn’t need Pandemonium if sex with you wasn’t so great! I wouldn’t need you if Wells were still here! And that’s on me too!”

“Seriously?” Bellamy stepped back and Clarke fought to avoid his eyes. Her teeth clenched. 

“I don’t need you, Bellamy. I don’t want you. Why the hell are you here?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe we were finding solace in each other, I guess I was wrong.”

“You were.”

“Fine. Just know that you’re not the only one who blames themselves. We all have our demons.”

For a good, solid minute Clarke refused to open her eyes, listening to Bellamy’s footsteps as he departed. At that moment every single hair on her body stiffened, her skin cold and smooth, her mind lurching from some high place then tumbling, tumbling, smashing into a hundred thousand pieces.

Fortunately, Bellamy wasn’t around to hear it break.

“Did you have to do that to him?”

It was hours later when Clarke and Octavia had gone to the stadium for soundcheck. It didn’t take Octavia long to hit her with hard questions. They were alone, after all.

“Go be happily married, Octavia. You don’t know when it’s going to end,” Clarke had tried, at least, to control the acid in her voice. The glare from Octavia said she’d failed.

“No, I don’t. But neither did you.” Octavia’s eyes closed as she exhaled, and continued, “Loving Wells was good for you, losing him has put you in this… this cycle of self-hatred and misery. You and Bellamy were all happy and sexy, and then you read one little rumor about your future child and suddenly he’s dead to you? You’re hurting him by shutting him out - tell him what’s going on with you.”

“I’m not the only one here who’s hurt him! You left the band and only came back because I hired your husband! You don’t want to be the drummer of The Delinquents and it’s obvious.”

“You’re right, I wanted to be with my husband and you gave me that, my love of music, my brother.” Octavia paused and scanned Clarke’s face. “I want to be here with my family and I was starting to hope that it would include you but you obviously don’t want that.”

“You don’t know what I want! You don’t know what I’ve lost or what it’s done to me!”

“You lost your baby and your husband. I’m sorry about that Clarke and you, no one deserves that pain. But think about what Bellamy’s gone through. You’re not that different.

“He’s the most empathetic person I know and not only is he feeling guilty about Gina and Echo, but now there’s you and this baby that doesn’t exist but is hurting you more because you had one that did.”

“No, I didn’t and that’s the point. I didn’t know. I never knew until after it was removed from me. I didn’t get to feel anything about being pregnant or even get to decide or tell Wells about it. I didn’t get to be an expecting mom and now it’s out there for the world to judge and they’re not even correct!”

“Okay, but that’s not a reason to not talk to Bellamy and explain this pain to him rationally instead of freaking out and pushing him away. He cares about you and would like to know what’s going on, not be left out in the cold wondering what he did wrong when it wasn’t even him.”

“How am I supposed to apologize? It’s going to happen again, I’m not blind enough to not see that.”

“You say ‘I’m sorry.’ You tell him why having a baby traumatizes you. You be honest with him.”

Clarke sighed. Of course, she knew all that already, but why would he give her another chance? She pushed him away before they could get close, she wanted to keep it that way and somehow he’d burrowed deep under her skin and they’re close. She let herself get close to him and now she’s scared that he wouldn’t want to see any deeper than where they are right now.

“Hi, Winnipeg.” The rattle in her voice said all that it needed to when Clarke took a seat on the stool and adjusted the mic stand in front of her. “Changing things up today, been feeling… I’m, uh, I’m having a bad week,” she said then rolled into a sigh. “I’m letting the tabloids get to me too much so let’s clear some things up: First, I’m not, I repeat, I am not pregnant.” 

The skies were clear, but thunder seemed to strike within her, somewhere.

“I was… going to keep that to myself but there’s… someone, someone who I care about deeply who I’ve hurt this past week. I hurt them because I wasn’t letting them in. Hearing all of the pregnancy rumors was a trigger for me. The last time I was pregnant…” her voice wavered, “...was before the accident in Miami.” Her eyes squeezed tight. A chill settled over the crowd. 

Then, more of the truth about her. “I didn’t know myself until I came out of the coma.”

She paused and continued, “Do you want to know a secret? I’m scared. I’m afraid that if I go to them and tell them all this one on one that they won’t want to hear it because I haven’t been the easiest. Imagine that, an easy popstar,” she scoffed at herself, a light cacophony went through the crowd. “I’m scared that I messed up too many times and that they wouldn’t want to give me the time to explain myself, that says nothing about them though, just a lot about my insecurities. Anyway, this is a song that I’d listen to whenever I think about the baby I lost.”

She picked up her guitar and started on the melody she fell in love with as a child. 

_ “You just a small bump unborn/In four months you’re brought to life… ” _

The song overwhelmed her in seconds, tears running from her cheeks as her mind traced back. The cloying, herbal smell of the doctor’s office. The milliseconds she observed with perfect concentration as the doctor informed her about her pregnancy, and the complications from the accident. Tick, tock, tick. Ba-bum. Tock, tick, tick, ba-bum.

Wells was dead. The baby they didn’t know they were having - also dead.

_ “Cause you were just a small bump _ _  
_ _ Unborn for four months then torn from life. _ _  
_ _ Maybe you were needed up there _ _  
_ _ But we’re still unaware as why.” _

The guitar almost fell from her hands as she wiped at her face. She jolted, feeling a hand on her back and looking up at it’s owner.

Bellamy. He gently grabbed the guitar from her.

“Let’s do the song and once the show is over we can talk,” he said softly, just to her and she nodded.

Once she was standing, Clarke realized that all of The Delinquents were on stage setting up for the song.

“Okay, I bet all y’all were waiting for this, usually a transition between sets. We like to keep things fresh here at the Resurrection Tour!” 

She tried to smile, sensing the bile building in her throat. “Octavia’s actually been a huge help, being a shoulder for me to cry on the last few days. Ready boys?” she asked, turning to Miller and Murphy who just finished hooking their instruments back up.

Miller started in on the opening melody and Bellamy squeezed her hip, using the distraction to steal her mic and hop right into the song, blasting the lyrics to  _ I Think I’m Okay _ just a little too well. Bellamy Blake, ever the showman.

_ Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all _ _  
_ _ I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call _

Now that the secret was out about her pregnancy, he’d probably want to “talk” to her about it soon, and the thought of that made her brain itch.

_ I've been hearing silence on the other side for way too long _ _  
_ _ I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that something's wrong but _ _  
_ _ I guess it's just my life and I can take it if I wanna _ __  
_ But I cannot hide in hills of California _ _  
_ __ Because these hills have eyes, and I got paranoia

She really didn’t want to talk about it. She’d just wanted to say it, get it out in the open and out of her freaking head then leave it be, motionless and abandoned.

_ I hurt myself sometimes, is that too scary for you? _

In that part of the verse Bellamy’s eyes lingered on her for an uncomfortable couple of seconds, and then the next verse continued and the crowd roared

Halfway through the song, they switched their mics back with an un-choreographed yet synchronized toss to each other, and it could have gone terribly wrong but somehow went smoothly and the crowd went wild with the move. They didn’t bask in the glory of an awesome job, just kept the show going. 

She roamed the stage like she usually did during Bellamy’s bits, grabbing a mic from one of her dancers barely off stage. Apparently, Bellamy had forgotten to bring his mic out. That was something Bellamy almost never did. To the people in the crowd he probably looked the same, but to her...

Once the show was over Bellamy hugged her like he always did after that particular song, but all that did was confirm the obvious to her. The rest of the Delinquents made way for Clarke’s band and dancers, and Clarke stole a glance at Bellamy.

His head wasn’t in the game.

Once the show and encore were over, Clarke collapsed on the couch in her green room, disgustingly covered in sweat. Her back felt great, probably because of her week-long depression and the intense push she’d made into her rehab. To Lincoln it’d probably looked as though she’d gone off the deep end, but he’d at least pretended to be happy with her results. 

She’s made it through a whole show with minimal pain, so that was a decent bonus. It only proved Lincoln’s point about her slacking off during the first leg of the tour, and the detriments that brought.

A knock at her door stirred her out of her thoughts. The door squeaked open before she could see the person on the other end, but she knew the voice.

“Bad time to talk?”

Dense pockets of air loosened within her. Ecstasy wriggled through her arms and legs at the mere sound of Bellamy’s voice.

“I’m just a little tired, but I want to talk. I’m sorry.”

“Do those words mean anything to you?”

“Bellamy,” she pleaded, sitting up.

“You were amazing out there,” he said, gesturing with excitement. “Was it the lack of sex, or because you actually started caring about your rehab?”

“Rehab was numbing my brain from all the bullshit that was bombarding it.”

“Like having my kid?”

“I know I hurt you but do you have to be so harsh about it? I’m still hurting!”

“And I’m not hurting? There’s a beautiful, amazing woman who I can’t seem to stop writing songs about breaking my heart every other day without even seeming to care! I’m hurting too!”

“I… we said this was just fun on the tour.”

“And when did we have fun? Philly? The helicopter? That’s not enough for me.”

“I’m only good for sex?”

“That’s not what I said, but how could anything else have been real if you couldn’t even tell me about Wells?”

“I did tell you! I thought I buried it all. I thought that I wouldn’t have to deal with losing my baby with you because we were just having fun and then the press started talking about a Bellarke baby and I snapped. I—I didn’t get to know that I was pregnant. I didn’t get to be happy and have any of the glowing pregnancy bullshit because once I was told, it was already gone. Torn out of me months before I even knew. How was I supposed to know that that was trauma worth talking to Diyoza about?”

“You lost a baby! How could you think that it wasn’t important to mention to anybody let alone your therapist?”

“My mom knew.”

“Screw your mother, princess! You have people who care about you, people who want nothing more than to know what the hell is plaguing your mind!”

“Everyone here gets paid to do a job, no one is here to be my friend.”

“Fuck that! I thought we were friends! Octavia was glad that you two were getting close. Do you really think that you have no one?”

“I didn’t ask either of you for this.”

“That’s not how friendship works, Griffin.” Bellamy threw his fists in the air in frustration. “Fuck! I can’t be here right now. I need space.” 

Bellamy stormed out of the room and Clarke collapsed back on the couch with more storm clouds over her head than before.

Thank you, Bellamy Blake.


	10. WOW (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calgary... what happens in Calgary (doesn't) stay in Calgary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been planned out since I came up with the tour dates and evolved since coming up with all the drama I stirred into this little pot of mine. I'm very excited that it's finally here!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: the end of this chapter took a darker turn than I originally anticipated. That being said, if you’re not comfortable reading about non-consensual drug use and talks of suicide, please stop at the sentence “So much for more clothes...“
> 
> [Click for GMIDplaylist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=CQMUzYg9QFWQ0OSdmw0pfw)
> 
> There's a link at the end of what inspired the location of a spoiler in which I was very excited to write about and find.

They had a day off after Winnipeg and they were in Calgary. Clarke was a little lost as to what to do. Her book was still missing and she suspected that Bellamyhad it, either forgetting to give it back or waiting for her to beg for it back. She couldn’t do that; he’d asked for space and Clarke wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Let him calm down, if that’s what he was actually doing.

She chose to go to a book shop that wasn’t too far from the hotel and while she was browsing a few fans asked her to take a picture with them. She complied, and of course that drove social media into a frenzy, forcing her to call Anya and sneak out through the back. 

The typical black SUV stilled the beating in her chest. Clarke sighed, putting her phone down and jolting at the feel of someone’s skin. 

“Bellamy?” she asked with a sigh of relief when she saw his face.

“I was on my way to Banff for the day and now I’m stuck with you.”

“Why can’t you still go to Banff?”

“Seriously? I had to turn my car around to get the drowning princess. I can’t go now. I have things to do tonight and—and now I can’t relax and get out of my head!”

“Bellamy, I—“

“Whatever it is, Clarke, I don’t care. You have put me through a lot of shit in the last week and I need space.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get your book back to you. You should have asked instead of going to a bookstore alone.”

“I know, I was trying to give you space and you have my book...”

Bellamy nodded and looked out the window as the streets of Calgary sped past them. Clarke grimaced, looking out her own window, thinking about everything that had happened in the last 20 months that had brought her to that moment, sitting in the back seat of a black SUV with Bellamy Blake.

Once back at the hotel, Clarke opened the door and glanced at Bellamy who was on his phone, one of his least favorite things to do, ignoring the world.

“Miss Griffin,” the hotel’s concierge greeted her, asking if she needed any assistance. Clarke hadn’t thought about what she was going to do instead of read a book but at the sound of the woman’s voice, she realized she could just ask. Finding the woman looking a little anxious at her lack of response Clarke smiled softly. 

“Um, candles aren’t allowed right?”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s a fire hazard.”

“Right, doesn’t hurt to ask. Is there somewhere I can get bubble bath then? Lavender, preferably.”

“I can get some brought up to your room,” the woman’s voice quickened. “Do you need anything else?”

“Have you ever been to New York?” Clarke asked suddenly craving bagels.

“No?”

“Then I’m good. Thank you.”

* * *

“He’s super pissed,” said Octavia, sidling up next to her after The Delinquent’s soundcheck.

“I couldn’t tell,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes and actively _not_ watching Bellamy storm off in the opposite direction of where she was.

Octavia slapped Clarke in the arm with something and Clarke looked down to find her book, in Octavia’s hands. “I told him I wouldn’t but he nagged me all night and so here you go.”

“All night? He said he had a thing last night.”

“Yeah, annoying me! We had a band meeting, it’s once a month so the next one is… well, L.A. so I guess after the tour.”

Clarke nodded. “It’s cool. I just… I can’t keep apologizing.”

“I’m not on your side on this, Clarke. Give him some space and let him come to you this time.”

“Can I just ask one thing?”

“Aside from that, sure.”

“Is it about me not telling him about the baby and snapping at him or about telling the world with him listening?”

“If I were to venture a guess, both.”

Clarke nodded and the stage manager cleared his throat on the stage, cueing Clarke to get her ass up there for her soundcheck.

* * *

“Hey,” Bellamy said as she stepped off stage their second night in Calgary.

“Hi,” she said with a heavy breath. The results of her rehabilitation were bearing fruit, and she’d worked herself twice as hard during the night’s performance to compensate.

“Do you have plans for the next three days?”

“Uh… no?”

“Are you sure?”

“You already checked with Anya, why are you asking me?”

“Because I need your permission to take you anywhere, consent is key.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“I understand why you’d think that, but no.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Bellamy nodded. “Good. Anya packed your things already, they’re in the Jeep.”

“The Jeep?”

“I can drive, Griffin, how else am I supposed to get around L.A.? Now, come on.”

“Really? No chaperones to make sure you don’t kill me? Really securing my trust in you,” she deadpanned with a wistful look, noting Bellamy’s complete lack of amusement.

Once in the Jeep and on the road, Bellamy turned on a playlist, and after the third song played, Clarke realized that they were all the songs she’d done covers of since the tour began. She didn’t know he paid such close attention to her.

Her thoughts were so overwhelming that she couldn’t say anything. When he stopped for gas and asked if she wanted anything inside the convenience store, she could barely muster up asking for water. How could…no, _why would_ he pay so much attention to her cover choices? Pay such close attention to her at all? They’re… she didn’t know what they were and that was a problem, they fought and had sex and wrote songs, she had let him into the darkest parts of her and she thought maybe he’d done the same. Maybe they have found solace in each other and she was too afraid to admit any of it.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said five minutes after leaving the gas station, cutting through her thoughts.

“I don’t know what we’re doing or where we’re going. Forgive me for being a little on edge.”

“I have a cabin on Ghost River. It’s where I go when I need to think or write music. I was planning on going these few days off and driving to Vancouver but we will probably catch a plane there.”

“How long is the drive?”

“Ten hours without stopping.”

“And because I’m here, we’re going to stop a lot? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not in a douchey way, just statistically speaking women use the bathroom more during road trips. It's either that, or they want to go sight-seeing.”

“What time would you want to leave by?” she asked because she knew Bellamy at this point, she knew that he had everything planned down to the minute and planned for anything that might delay them at all.

“I don’t want to think about leaving when we haven’t even gotten there yet.”

Clarke nodded in understanding as the song changed to _Getting Over You_ by Lauv and Clarke smiled, remembering playing the song in Boston, thinking about her friendship with Bellamy and how he’s been helping her move past everything that happened in Miami a year and a half ago. She started singing along.

 _“Running from the morning_ _  
_ _Think I hit a wall_ _  
_ _Late nights, not you_ _  
_ _Running from the moment_ _  
_ _So I don't recall_ _  
_ _Late nights, not you”_

Bellamy joined her on the next verse and Clarke couldn’t help but smile thinking about how well their voices complement each other.

 _“Waking up in a cold sweat_ _  
_ _Someone else in this cold bed_ _  
_ _I’d do anything to not be alone_ _  
_ _All alone with the ceiling_ _  
_ _All alone with this feeling_ _  
_ _And I wonder if I’ll ever let go.”_

Clarke looked over to Bellamy, wondering why the hell he would ever want to lock himself in a cabin for two days with her. He’s such a good man, such an amazing friend and brother. He’s so good to his fans and maybe that was it, maybe that’s what she needed to learn from him, maybe that’s why he came into her life when she needed someone like him most. She reached over and took his hand from his thigh and twined their fingers together.

She caught him looking over at her as they continued singing the song and looked back at the road when she squeezed his fingers. Maybe him taking his eyes off the road was a sub-trauma PTSD reaction to the accident, even though she felt safe with him and the dark, empty road.

“I want to talk about it,” he said softly as the song ended softly. “We’re going to because my head is swimming with questions. Mostly about why you didn’t trust me but also because now that I know, I understand why you’re in more pain than I ever was.”

“Yet you’re more traumatized?”

“That’s a different story and a different situation.”

“Will you tell me about that too?”

“Sure, we can talk about that too,” Bellamy said, bringing her hand to his lips and nearly kissed her knuckles but pulled away before he could.

“You don’t have to do that,” Clarke told him, her eyes glued on the road ahead of them, afraid to find out what look was on his face. “Whatever you want to do, you can.”

“Yeah? Last time I touched you, you freaked out.”

“That wasn’t because you were touching me. I was in my head and—“

“We can talk about it later,” Bellamy interrupted and let go of her hand, putting his back on the wheel.

Once they pulled up to the well-lit acre of land that Bellamy owned, Clarke gasped at the sight of the very picturesque log cabin. “You own this?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s dark and the better view is from the river.”

Bellamy stopped the Jeep and put it in park in front of the garage.

“Still, I can’t believe you have this place yet _choose_ to live in L.A.”

“I come out here a few times a year. There are more people in the summer so I don’t come here often this season but this tour gave me the opportunity and I needed some time alone.”

“And you thought to invite me to Bellamy’s Alone Time?”

“It’s not like that. I come here for solace, for peace from this insane world. Yes, people see me here and yes, I would like to change that, but I can’t if I want the view from my patio and balcony.”

“Balcony?” she asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah, I wrote a bunch of songs up there.”

Clarke smiled, still waiting for Bellamy to take the lead and head inside. It was past midnight and she’s exhausted. He finally took the key out of the ignition and opened his door, lighting the interior of the car up. She squinted, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. 

“All right, come on. It’s been a long night. Let’s get some sleep and you can get the grand tour in the morning.”

“Sounds good.” Clarke smiled as she got out of the car and circled round to the trunk, mirroring Bellamy on the driver’s side. He opened the back and Clarke saw all the stuff that Anya had packed for her. “Did you tell her we were going camping or something?”

Bellamy laughed. “No, but this is excessive. Just… Lincoln is staying a half-hour away just in case something happens.”

“Smart, but I’m feeling good for the first time all tour.”

“Odd since you’ve been stressed all week.”

“We should ignore that right now and get this shit inside. Seriously, what was she thinking with all this?”

Bellamy shook his head as he grabbed not only his duffel bag but a few of Clarke’s as well. She grabbed the rest and followed Bellamy inside, watching him unlock the door with ease and headed upstairs with her following close behind.

He set her up in one of the guest rooms and said good night. It was nearly three in the morning by the time Clarke conceded the fact that she wouldn’t sleep on the too-soft mattress. Bellamy had pointed out another guest room when they walked in the house downstairs, so Clarke snuck downstairs and peeked through the door Bellamy had pointed to, finding that the mattress was on its side covered in a sheet... he wasn’t planning on having any guests in that room anytime soon.

Nearly defeated, Clarke stood at her door and looked down the hall at the one Bellamy was in, and sighed. Would he be okay with her joining him? Was his mattress just a little bit harder than the guest room? Enough that she could get some sleep at least.

She knocked gently on the door before pushing it open to find him asleep, the moonlight from the balcony doors illuminated his skin against his black sheets. The bed was huge and looked so inviting that Clarke didn’t even wait to ask for permission. She climbed into bed, staying on the one side that Bellamy wasn’t on and fell asleep soundly.

* * *

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bellamy woke up warm and content. He rolled onto his back and groaned before noticing the dip on the other side of the bed. He looked over to find golden waves on the pillow next to his.

Clarke.

He sighed, wanting to curl up behind her and just _be_ with her but thought against it. Maybe that was weird, maybe he was too obsessed with her to see where they were clearly. They’re barely friends. Not even _friends with benefits_ , like they’d agreed upon back in… what was it? Philly? It’s been a long month regardless.

Grimacing, he rolled out of bed and headed downstairs. He turned the coffee pot on and stepped out onto the back patio, looking out over the water and past the other side of the shore which still had a glimpse of darkness and it was reminiscent of his mind. He was ultimately an optimistic person but when some darkness started creeping its way in, it consumed him. He knew that he _felt_ more than normal people, that his empathy could ultimately consume him and that darkness gave him the ability to shut it off, to be the womanizing asshole that the media portrayed him as and he sometimes didn’t stop himself even though he knew he could. He held the lever in his hand with hesitance and always, _always_ pulled the lever, flipped the switch that shut him down.

There was an order of occurrence, just like the shift from day to night throughout the seasons, sometimes the distance between spurts of darkness being longer and sometimes shorter, just moments. Barely minutes where he came out of them wondering what he had done and what possessed him to do any of it. Poor choices happened and yet he continued pulling that damn lever throughout the years.

Hearing the coffee pot stop brewing, Bellamy turned back and poured himself a cup, drinking it black without, exactly, knowing why. He never brought milk to the cabin, and he only ever stayed here for a couple of days.

He headed back outside and sat, enjoying the view. It was always so peaceful that early in the morning before everyone hopped in their boats and roared up and down the river; usually, he’d retreat to the guest room by then and work on writing his songs.

Finishing his coffee, Bellamy thought about the woman in his bed. How she’d be starving when she woke up, how he needed to keep busy, and not overthink everything going on with her. 

He wanted a drink, but he _needed_ to keep a clear head, especially this early in the morning.

Breakfast became his distraction. Bacon and pancakes first then the eggs.

“Morning,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. “Coffee’s ready and breakfast is in five minutes.”

“Mm,” she hummed, feet shuffling noisily across the tile floor around the island to the coffee pot. The little moan she let escape as she took her first sip caused his cock to jump; he couldn’t have that. They needed to have a civil conversation about why she kept her pregnancy from him, why she couldn’t let him help her with the fallout.

He was about to ask if she was hungry when she said, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Climbing into your bed. I couldn’t sleep. The mattress in my room was too soft and I thought it might hurt my back…”

“No, it’s fine. I figured it was something like that.”

“Would it be so bad if that wasn’t the only reason?”

Bellamy turned around and caught her ogling him over the brim of her mug, her eyes shooting up to meet his perplexed gaze as understanding came over him. “Depending on what that exactly means but we’re not going to talk about it. We’re going to eat breakfast on the patio and then we can talk.”

Clarke took another sip of her coffee and licked her pouty lips before nodding. “Did Anya tell you that I have a work call at two?”

“She said she was going to reschedule it.”

“It can’t be rescheduled, it’s about the tour merch with Pandemonium’s last-minute addition.”

“Oh. Don’t you have to see it?”

“I’m guessing that means my laptop wasn’t packed.”

“No.”

Clarke sighed. “I guess I’ll just FaceTime and hope for the best with seeing what they came up with.”

Bellamy nodded once before turning back to the pancakes and pulled them off the frying pan, trading them for a half dozen eggs that he’s frying.

“Remind me to cook you huevos rancheros tomorrow,” she said softly and Bellamy bit back his smirk.

“Would you grab a couple of plates and utensils for us and set them up outside?”

“Am I distracting you, Mr. Blake?”

“That little outfit is distracting me,” he muttered in hopes that she didn’t hear.

“Says the man in briefs,” she countered as she brushed behind him to the glass door cabinet displaying his bowls and plates.

He’d have loved to set up a fruit bowl for her but he didn’t think that they would eat everything his housekeeper would buy if he’d asked.

As she grabbed the plates from the upper cabinet, Bellamy refused to look over at the sight that probably was her stretching to reach for them in her tiny shorts and camisole; he reached behind him to open the drawer with the utensils and cloth napkins for her.

“Thanks,” she said as she rattled the drawer’s contents grabbing what she needed.

Once he heard the back door close behind her, he groaned. “Fuck. I’m always going to forgive her, aren’t I?”

He was screwed.

Bellamy barely ate due to Clarke’s boisterous appreciation of the meal, his brain trying to calm down his dick with every moan or sigh that slipped through her lips with every bite. They’d shared meals before, why was he _just_ finding out about her appreciation? It’s just ridiculous.

“So,” she said after they were done eating, “do you want to talk now or after showering?”

“Shower. You need to be wearing a lot more clothing.”

“Same goes for you,” she smiled cheekily and Bellamy returned it. He loved how forward she was suddenly being but he was also a little concerned about what her intentions were on this little break from touring. 

Lincoln had told him that Clarke was cleared for sexual activity again, and she seemed to know that or, maybe, now that her secret was out there for the world to know and he took her on what could be considered a romantic weekend (in the middle of the week, granted). 

“I’ll clean up,” she said, “why don’t you go shower?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You cooked, so I’ll clean. Go shower, Bell. We’ll talk in twenty.”

Bellamy nodded and grabbed as much as he could off the table and carried it inside for her, knowing that she was rolling her eyes as he did so.

* * *

After his shower, Bellamy sat on the balcony with his guitar, strumming the chords of the first song he’d ever learned.

“Is that the Smashing Pumpkins?” he heard behind him as she circled around the chair next to him. She was wearing a black bikini top covered by a white band tee—his band— and torn black shorts that showed off her miraculously tan legs. 

So much for more clothes...

“You’re tan.”

“The spa with the girls,” she said matter-of-factly. “It was supposed to wash off within a week but it’s still here and going strong. The song?”

“Yeah, it’s them. I was thinking about how I got to be so lucky as to have two homes and have the luxury to never have to work again and my brain just… _went_ to this song. The first song I _ever_ learned to play.” His features stretched on the last sentence.

“The guy you worked for in exchange for Octavia’s drum lessons.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, thinking fondly of the man and ignored the fact that his mother was also sleeping with him.

The cost of the lessons, it seemed.

“So, are we..?”

“Yeah,” he needed to just dive in. Little did she know that he was planning to tell her everything on his end. All that heavy shit he didn’t tell anyone about and avoided talking to anyone in the band about it. It was his darkest moment, was there someplace worse than rock bottom because that’s where he was.

“I… after Gina died…” 

God, he didn’t want to do this.

“...I was in a dark place, I had just bought us a house in Bel Air and I was getting it renovated before telling Gina about it. I hired an interior designer and I didn’t… I didn’t know she was a fan...” Bellamy shook his head, hating what had happened to him after Gina. He blinked back the pressure building behind his eyes before pressing on. “Her name is Echo and I let her get close, I let her into my life, in what I thought to be a professional matter, but it quickly escalated. She was the person I leaned on, the person I told all my demons to and it got to the point where we were _always_ together. There wasn’t a moment where either of us would be seen without the other, not that we would go anywhere.

“I was... numb... to music since losing Gina and with the help of Echo I was okay with that. I was okay with never writing music again. I was okay with being numb to everything for the rest of my life. It went on for _months_ . My house was an abandoned construction zone, I stopped talking to anyone in the band and I was okay with _all of it_ . I—I alienated myself from the people I cared most about and that was _okay_ because I had Echo. She—she took care of me and I loved every carefree moment of it.

“Then one day while Echo was out getting groceries and running some errands, everyone confronted me. It was an intervention. She drugged me, used me for my money and fame to get perks and maybe a place to live, or hide out.” Bellamy lifted his eyes to the river, but couldn’t dare himself to look at Clarke’s face. “She was a drifter her whole life and had learned how to con people at a young age. It made sense how we’d gotten to the point where she became everything to me, meant more to me than Gina after learning it all. Anyway, um, they went through the whole intervention with me defending her and fighting them over every topic until they pulled out the folder full of information they’d gotten from our private investigator.”

Bellamy sat forward and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “I had to believe them at that point. I’d agreed to go to the police when we heard this noise upstairs. Scared the hell out of us. I practically ran upstairs.” His face went rigid. “There was this sword in Gina’s office—she’d gotten it for my birthday the year before— a Western Zhou Bronze Jian from, like, 500 B.C. and…

“Echo found it, and was inches away from killing herself with it when I came in. I mean, everything she’d done, Clarke, after everything she’d done, and me wanting nothing but vengeance, I had to talk her out of killing herself! Can you believe that? She’s been in jail for almost a year now and I still have nightmares about the confession she gave after it was all over. That... that smug look she had on her face! Confessing to Gina’s murder, manipulating me, drugging me, almost like she knew she’d get caught!

“And now I keep waking up thinking that she’s back, that she killed you in the middle of the night because I let you get close.”

“Bellamy… she’s in jail. At most I’ll get a threatening phone call and, if that _does_ happen…” she said, staring at him, “Anya changes my number and life goes on. I’m honestly surprised you’re as well rounded as you are after all that.”

“I’m not! I tried to kill myself. I… I didn’t trust myself to detox from whatever Echo was drugging me with so I went to a rehab facility and while I was coming down and starting to remember everything that I did for her, every confession she’d told me while I was drugged up and I forgave… I couldn’t possibly keep going after all she’d done. I’m on mood stabilizers now and I text my therapist throughout the day just to keep my sanity.

“My therapist said that I shouldn’t bring you into it, that getting involved with you will risk both of our recoveries. It’s too late for that, we make amazing music together.”

Clarke’s composure broke into a series of little sobs and he cursed at himself. 

Whether he was transparent or reclusive, his attachment to people always ended poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say that this chapter was long... I mean, it's L.O.N.G. and I decided to chop it in half and so the second half of this chapter will be up in a few days.
> 
> [Click Here](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/32667040?location=Calgary%2C%20AB%2C%20Canada&adults=2&check_in=2020-07-23&check_out=2020-07-25&source_impression_id=p3_1581216826_t5MzfKq%2BdHYMpkpA) for the inspiration of Bellamy's house, it's freaking gorgeous!


	11. WOW (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to have been up a few days ago, but my beta's been indisposed so it took a little longer than anticipated.

Clarke’s eyes lifted and locked on his when their lips parted. “Bell—”

“I didn’t tell you to make you cry and pity me. I was a heartbroken idiot, let my guard down to a stranger who took advantage. I’m okay.”

“So when I was begging to die in New York and you were… you know what it feels like.”

Her eyes searched his, two storms colliding into one another. 

“I didn’t want you to know what that felt like,” he replied.

Clarke stood and Bellamy feared she’d scream at him or lash out in some way he wouldn’t expect; instead, she did exactly what he didn’t expect. Closing the distance between them, Clarke leaned down and hugged him, intent on healing all of the pain and hurt in his heart. To make sure that Bellamy Blake would feel sad or broken again. 

He needed more, needed her closer, so he grabbed her waist and pulled her down to him and she tried pulling away but Bellamy stopped her. “Please, just sit with me.”

Without a word, Clarke climbed into his lap and they held each other. Clarke kissed his temple at some point and Bellamy sighed, feeling complete contentment.

“I know you understand why Wells and I kept our marriage a secret. I know you would have done it yourself if you could have. It’s difficult keeping the best thing that’s ever happened to you to yourself but you get used to it. It’s my life, not everyone’s and by keeping it between us, we didn’t have to deal with  _ opinions.” _

Bellamy laughed, looking up at her gorgeous face. The pure trust in her eyes said everything that Bellamy needed to hear at that moment.

“Telling you about Wells was a lot for me. No one in Silver Linings knew. In fact, only five people knew: my mom, his dad, Harper, Monty, and the minister. At that point in my life, I was used to not sharing my life publicly and feeding my fans things that didn’t actually matter. Sponsorships, paid ads, concert pictures, and new music clues. Nothing of substance about my life. When the accident happened, there was a public statement covering my injuries and coma and Wells’ death. He was Silver Linings’ manager so it had to be done. It said nothing about our personal relationship and I’m glad that I got to mourn him in peace.” Clarke closed her eyes, air pushing out of her nose. “I’ll eventually make it public soon, but not during the tour. ”

She sighed, pulling away from him and Bellamy looked up at her. “I didn’t tell you about the baby because I… we, we were new, this. This, all of it, it’s new. I didn’t want you thinking I was just using you to try and have a baby or something like I was making up for what I lost. Looking back it’s a shitty thing to think but I did. Now I know better, that’s not the type of guy you are.”

“Thanks for having faith in me to not be a total asshole,” Bellamy said with a smirk, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

“I like you. I know pushing you away negates that but it’s how I feel.”

“Did Diyoza teach you that?”

“Okaaaay, since you know my therapist’s name I think I deserve to know yours.”

“Indra.”

“Ah, Indra Porter,  _ the _ therapist of the stars. Exactly why I didn’t choose her.”

“Diyoza’s an up and comer for that title, little miss boujee. Come on, tell me everything because I just bore my deepest trauma to you.”

“I spoke to Octavia about it at soundcheck. Look, about talking to the crowd, it was just… it was easier, you know? Especially after our ‘fight’ I mean, somehow,” she said, laughing, “somehow it was easier telling 15,000 people than it was just talking to you.”

“I would have understood the moment you told me, I wouldn’t have argued, or made it about you not wanting kids with me because we’re not even together.”

She’d wanted to tell him everything right there, at that moment.

“I’m not… against the idea.”

Her voice held back.

“What?”

“You and me being together, I wouldn’t be against it. We’re good together.”

“When we’re not fighting,” Bellamy chided and caught her looking at his mouth. 

Their mouths found each other with little hesitation and as Bellamy tasted the coffee and mint in hers a familiar addiction settled in his. In a swift movement, Clarke maneuvered herself into straddling his thighs.

She tasted like coffee and mint, he couldn’t get enough as she maneuvered herself in his lap and straddled his thighs.

“We can’t do this out here,” he mumbled into her neck as the sound of a boat engine grew louder and louder.

Clarke started pulling off him but Bellamy tightened his grip on her hips and stood swiftly. Clarke’s legs wrapped around his hips and she giggled— _ giggled _ —as he carried her inside and up to his bedroom.

“Fuck. Who’s idea was it to get dressed?” he complained as he wrestled with the waistband of his jeans.

Clarke sat on the balcony strumming a guitar, looking out over the sunset.

“ _ The way you want me makes me want you now _ _  
_ _ The only thing you have to say is… _ ”

“Wow.”

“I think you just finished that line for me,” Clarke smiled, looking over her shoulder at Bellamy leaning against the door jamb watching her continue playing the song she had in her head.

“How was your meeting?”

“Good, Anya could  _ tell _ that I’m in a better mood so you might be getting an edible arrangement from her when we get back to reality. The merch has the same aesthetic, just Pandemonium added, you’ll still like them.”

“I only argued about them because you make arguing fun, I never know what I’m going to get from you.”

“Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, it’s a very good thing. You keep me on my toes.”

They shared a glance together. Then, Clarke’s mouth moved, lyrics belting out of it.

_ “If I can’t have you, I don’t want no one _ _  
_ _ I don’t want no one _ _  
_ _ As you make dance in the middle of the street _ _  
_ _ On the hardwood floor, we should be asleep” _

“You’re writing a song right now?” Bellamy said with a laugh.

“At your songwriting cabin? Absolutely.”

“Are you recording everything?”

Clarke nodded. “This whole conversation.”

Bellamy pushed off the door jamb and walked around the other chair, sitting on the armrest. “Were you serious earlier? About us.”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I want that too. I have to ask, have you seen the articles about your miscarriage?”

“I was… avoiding them.”

“I don’t think you should. I understand your social media presence is scripted and that it’s for a reason. I just think you might want to scrutinize what they’re saying about you.”

“What are they saying?”

“It’s a mixed bag. Promote the better articles saying you’re making a stand for female healthcare and showing complete honesty and reality on the subject. The other side is bashing you, telling you to keep your mouth shut and your opinion out of things that don’t concern you, that it was over a year ago and you should, quote-unquote,  _ get over it _ . Some are worse.”

Choking back bile, Clarke picked up her phone and shut off the voice memo recording before opening Instagram and started an IG live while turning off the comments.

“Hey, everyone. I don’t even know what to say right now. I am  _ thoroughly  _ disgusted. I bore my soul out on stage in Winnipeg about losing my baby and there are articles saying things about how I shouldn’t share that with my fans. That I shouldn’t share my physical and mental trauma with my fans who are majority women and one in four women miscarry. That’s not something I’m making up, a quarter of women on this planet miscarry at least once. Odds are you  _ know _ a woman who’s had a miscarriage. The pain doesn’t stop at physically losing the growing life inside you, it warps your brain and one minute you’re sitting next to your significant other and then you remember the life that was inside you is now gone and you blame yourself. You blame yourself for not knowing, for not  _ wanting _ that baby enough and you shame spiral. It doesn’t just affect us though, it affects our partners who were excited about having a baby too. They don’t blame you but the thought is in your head when they don’t look at you the same as before. It could just be one time that it happens but that thought it produced doesn’t go away, it latches to the forefront of your mind and doesn’t go away. You blame yourself and think that they’re doing the same when they’re not. They’re thinking it’s their fault too.”

“When I came out of my coma, I didn’t just lose my baby, I lost my ability to walk and run and dance! On top of that, it was all by the hands of my best friend who also died in the accident. Yes, Wells Jaha was my best friend and my manager, so my mourning didn’t start until I woke up in February and my mother told me. I didn’t just have my baby to mourn, I had just lost  _ everything _ and right now, a year after starting physical therapy, I’m on tour, I’m out on stage most nights dancing my heart out for every single person in that crowd and every person working my tour.

“Physically I’m eighty percent back. I can’t do everything that I used to do and I’m coming to terms with that. Mentally and emotionally, I had to throw aside all my feelings about losing my baby and my best friend just so I could focus on getting to where I am so I can be out there every night.

“I’m working through my grief and anger. I’m refraining from asking why it wasn’t me that died instead of Wells…”

Clarke turned her head to look at Bellamy who smiled through his tears and nodded.

“I have people who love me, people who are frustrated by me and still support me. I have you guys sending me so much love here on Instagram and Twitter, I don’t deserve you.

“I just… I wanted to share the reality of this random occurrence because it’s not a disease or a condition or caused by any  _ one _ thing. Mine was caused by a car accident and I’m still dealing with the mental trauma.

“Last thing, before I get back to writing. If you’re going through what I am, I want you to reach out to me. DM me, send me a video telling me what happened and how you cope. Or inspire me with something joyful, you miscarried and tried again and now you have a beautiful baby or teenager or ten year old. I want to hear every single one of your stories. I want to be inspired by each and every one of you and maybe with all your help, we can stamp out the stigma on miscarriages.

“Think about it, there are over seven and a half _billion_ people in the world, meaning that nearly one billion people miscarry and we don’t talk about it. In the US alone there are 15 million alcoholics and if my math is correct with the US population than less than five percent of the US population are alcoholics and they’re in every television show, a majority of movies. Thirteen percent of the world population has a miscarriage and we internalize. Mental health is on the rise so why shouldn’t female reproductive health be on the rise too?

“Vancouver, I can’t wait to see you all in two days! Let’s have a blast!”

Clarke ended the live broadcast and slumped back in her chair with a sigh. Bellamy came to her and grabbed the guitar off her lap, kneeling in front of her.

“How are you so strong and brave all the damn time?”

“Are you kidding? I’m terrified. I just started another wave in the feminist movement! I’m not ready to be the face of that.”

“So you’re going to write songs about love and heartbreak? We both know you can do better than that.”

“And right now, I don’t want to write a song about what I lost. I want to write about  _ this _ , with you... right now.”

“Oh, yeah? What about  _ this _ with me?”

The look he was giving her, that’s her inspiration for the first verse:

“ _ Baby, I'm not even in a gown _ _  
_ _ I'm just in a T-shirt on the couch _ _  
_ _ The way you want me makes me want you now _ _  
_ _ The only thing you have to say is…” _

“Wow,” Bellamy said, smirking.

“You got it.”

“I really like that.”

“It’s not exactly my sound, a little too pop for my taste but maybe make it a little wispier.”

“Wispier, huh?”

“Judge all you want, I think it’d be a good take on it.”

“Okay. Well, I have a song of my own that I'm going to go work on downstairs. How does dinner at seven sound?”

“Like heaven.”

Clarke leaned over and kissed him. He wasn’t used to it and he nearly pulled away before delving in for another.

_ “And you make me feel so fucking pretty _ _  
_ _ Take loving me to a new extreme _ __  
_ If I can’t have you, I don’t want no one _ _  
_ __ I don’t want no one…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite honestly, the conversations my beta and I have while editing these chapters GIVE ME LIFE! Like when it's -- _emphasized_ \-- that Clarke giggled, he did that and I laugh every time I read back over this chapter. I'm 🤣🤣🤣
> 
> While waiting on my beta to _finally_ finish editing, I made some Instagram posts for our lovely group of misfits for the Vancouver leg of the tour (Chapter 12). Click the link to be transported to the tumblr post: [LINK](https://jbsullivan17.tumblr.com/post/611270555959787520/i-had-a-lot-of-fun-making-these-they-go-along)


	12. 11 Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vancouver and the start of Pandemonium’s crazy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33Ij8vwVJL0j8rwICTSoMI?si=XUtbJWKOQWKDjyjgBqXPzQ) is ever-evolving! Go take a listen!
> 
> Possible spoiler for a very far off chapter: I was picking a friend up at the airport and Somebody You Loved by Lewis Capaldi came on the radio. I was belting it out and started thinking about this AU’s Clarke and I broke down at the end of the song and just imagine that... it’s likely a possibility. 
> 
> An announcement is at the end...

They wrote three songs at the cabin before they had to leave for Vancouver. Bellamy texted Lincoln that they were leaving and supposedly he was a half-hour behind them.

Driving with Bellamy was fun. They sang along to the radio, talking about how the tour would change with Pandemonium, and if either of them were truly prepared for all the drama that Pandemonium carried with them.

Anya wasn’t lying when she said it was like they’d lived two hundred years worth of drama: they were practically the definition of it. Clarke had spent  _ five _ minutes with them since arriving with Bellamy to the stadium and she didn’t know where they stood with each other. Did Gabriel hate Josephine? Did Gabriel cheat on Josie? What’s the truth?

For soundcheck, they were changing things up now that they had Pandemonium on board. The Delinquents and Clarke sang  _ I Think I’m OKAY _ and Pandemonium sang  _ The Last Time _ .

“They’re a risk,” Bellamy said, walking into Clarke’s green room, barely louder than the argument going on in Pandemonium’s room.

Clarke looked at him behind her through the mirror. “I know.”

“You still chose them.”

“I did.”

“Is that for the paps to take their eyes off us or because you planned Winnipeg out and you need them to take the heat instead?”

“Think of it this way: the more they look at  _ Pandemonium _ , the less they’ll look at  _ us _ .”

Bellamy smirked, closing the door. “Ingenious.”

Clarke stood, walking over to Bellamy. Once close enough, he held her waist. “Your scars shouldn’t be something you hide. They’re part of what makes you beautiful.”

“It’s more protecting them than hiding. I’ll do a photoshoot with a magazine that doesn’t retouch photos once we’re back in L.A. I’ll have Anya figure something out.”

Bellamy nodded before placing his forehead against hers. “We should do  _ Eleven Minutes _ tonight.”

“Are you sure? It’s still rough, maybe…”

“Gina and Wells would love it. Especially after releasing  _ I Think I’m OKAY _ .”

Clarke nodded: he wasn’t wrong. The song was about grief and missing someone so terribly, almost as though you wake up and spend the whole day believing your loved one is at work only to come home at the end and remember that they’re  _ gone _ .

“Are we doing both or just  _ 11 Minutes?” _

“Which would you rather?”

“I think both. Give them what they want before giving them what we need.  _ 11 Minutes _ was a huge breakthrough for us.”

It was a song to be reckoned with, and held a great amount of symbolism for the two of them, as if their individual pasts had coalesced into lyrical form. Clarke had lost consciousness right next to her husband before his death. Bellamy, merely two exits away on the highway when Gina died. That moment when you lost someone without knowing, being so close and yet so far away as they died….

It’s their version of a memorial, their love for their late partners eternally written in a song for the world to hear. They didn’t care if it made it anywhere on any chart. They just wrote the song that they needed to. They wrote the song that released all their guilt about moving on  _ together _ . Whether they’d admit it or not, Wells and Gina would want them to move on and attempt happiness.

“I want the piano out on stage, I want that to be momentous,” Clarke stated firmly.

“I’ll play the guitar and Octavia’s been working on drums for it already. I think the three of us while everyone else is switching out for you to close out the show.”

Clarke was about to respond when there was a rampant knock on the door. “Bellamy, we go on in ten!” Octavia’s voice called through the door.

“O, come in here,” Bellamy shouted, taking a step back from Clarke.

The door pushed open and Octavia looked at them quizzically.

“The voice memo I sent you before we left the cabin, have you been working on it?”

“I have the logistics down and I did a few run throughs. Do you want to perform it tonight?”

“After  _ I Think I’m OKAY _ and just the three of us. I’ll play guitar and Clarke will… she’ll be Clarke.”

“Okay, I’ll go spread the word about the change.” Octavia stepped back, letting the door close behind her.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asked, his brow furrowed as he gauged her expression.

“I know everyone here has signed NDAs, I just want this to stay between us.”

“I know. I think keeping it quiet right now is a good idea too. Keep the Bellarke hype to a minimum.”

“With  _ another _ song, people will get suspicious.”

“So let them.” Bellamy shrugged. “We’re on tour together, we’re both going through shit. We stick with that story and people will do what they do best, concoct wild theories about a love affair.”

“Which we are having,” Clarke stated with a smile.

Bellamy smiled back. “That we are. How does room service sound after the show?”

“Perfect.”

“Good. I’m going to let you get ready, you have about an hour before I need you on stage with me.”

Clarke grabbed his hand before he could leave and pulled him into her. “I’ll tell Anya that we’ll be sharing a room from now on.”

“That sounds good.” Bellamy’s eyes dropped from her eyes to her lips.

She pressed up on her tiptoes and kissed him sweetly. “Go before you’re late.”

“They have to wait for me.”

“True, but I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.”

Bellamy smiled and shook his head before stealing one more kiss before leaving Clarke to get ready.

“Hello Vancouver!” Bellamy called out to the screaming stadium. “I have been very excited about playing this city since this tour started. You have no idea! I love British Columbia, there’s so many things to do, I think I’m going to come back once this tour is over and spend a month doing  _ everything _ .

“But since I’m here right now, with the always fantastic Pandemonium,” he paused as the crowd screamed. “And my favorite people, The Delinquents!” Another pause for screams. “And, you know.” He shrugged, continuing their show of indifference. 

“Clarke Griffin!” 

A cacophony of screams followed the announcement, bursting what was likely several eardrums. Clarke couldn’t help but laugh at Bellamy’s ridiculousness. 

“Oh, you guys like her? She’s… whatever. Yeah, we’re going to play a song with her in just a moment but we have a surprise for you too. Please go gentle on us, okay?”

Octavia started in on the drums for  _ I Think I’m OKAY  _ and Clarke joined The Delinquents onstage, gauging Bellamy now that she knew what the lyrics meant to him. What they meant to both of them.

At the end of the song, Miller and Murphy left the stage, Miller smacked Bellamy on the shoulder as a white baby grand piano was brought out front the other side of the stage.

“Vancouver!” Clarke yelled as she slowly crossed the stage to the piano. “Bellamy and I have been going through a lot of the same things the last two years, that’s not a secret. We wrote  _ I Think I’m OKAY _ with the realization that we haven’t been working on getting better and moving forward. We’ve just been going through the motions of life thinking that, by ignoring the trauma, that we’ll be okay.

“But today,” Clarke said, leaning against the piano behind her as she watched Bellamy getting situated with Miller’s electric guitar. “We are done doing that. We are facing our demons and—hopefully—slaying them. This is the first time we’re playing this for  _ anyone _ so as Bellamy said a few minutes ago, please be gentle.”

Clarke pushed off the piano, hearing Bellamy start with the chords.

“ _ I'm 11 minutes away _ _  
_ _ And I have missed you all day _ _  
_ _ I'm 11 minutes away _ _  
_ _ So why aren't you here? _

_ “I think I missed you callin' on the other line _ _  
_ _ I'm just thinkin' all these thoughts up in my mind _ _  
_ _ Talkin' love but I can't even read the signs _ _  
_ _ I would sell my soul for a bit more time _ _  
_ _ You stain all on my body like you're red wine _ _  
_ _ You're the fuckin' acid to my alkaline _ _  
_ _ You run your middle finger up and down my spine _ _  
_ _ I'm sorry there was no one to apologize” _

Clarke’s favorite part about this song was the change up between her verse and Bellamy’s, how it’s so quick that it didn’t seem like it should happen that way but it also sounded amazing when they did it.

_ “I'm so fuckin' sorry, I'm so fuckin' sorry _ _  
_ _ I've been playing somebody and it's helping nobody _ _  
_ _ And her lipstick arithmetic didn't stick _ _  
_ _ And now I'm sick, throwing fits _ _  
_ _ And yeah, I've seen you in my head every fuckin' day since I left _ _  
_ _ You on the floor with your hands 'round your head _ _  
_ _ And I'm down and depressed _ _  
_ _ All I want is your head on my chest _ _  
_ _ Touchin' feet on the bed,”  _ Bellamy’s voice faded as Clarke’s picked up on the chorus. 

_ “I'm 11 minutes away _ _  
_ _ And I have missed you all day _ _  
_ _ I'm 11 minutes away _ _  
_ _ So why aren't you here?” _

The end of the song was what hurt Clarke the most as they both sang. It felt like betrayal saying something negative about a late lover. It was what they both needed to say though, they lost the best and worst they’ve ever had and they’re moving on. It’s the only thing they could do.

_ “So call me stupid, call me sad _ _  
_ _ You're the best I've ever had _ _  
_ _ You're the worst I've ever had _ __  
_ And that keeps fuckin' with my head _ _  
_ __ Call me stupid, call me sad”

The tone of the music changed as Bellamy finished the verse and Clarke stepped around the piano and started playing so when the lyrics came she was ready for the finishing lyrics. As Clarke played the piano, Bellamy standing on the other side with his guitar swung around behind him and he stared at her while she sang the last line, “ _ Why aren’t you here?” _

For a moment it was just them, fully at peace with sharing their losses with the world. Until the roaring crowd snuck up on them and Bellamy blinked, looking at the top of the piano before smiling out to their fans in the crowd. Clarke stood and stepped out around the piano, making sure she grabbed her microphone so there wouldn’t be a mishap again.

“Thank you so much, Vancouver!” Bellamy called out. “I’m going to leave you in the wonderful hands of Clarke Griffin! Have a good night!”

Bellamy looked at Clarke for a moment, checking in with her in case she needed a break, he’d do a cover or something. She smiled before turning towards the crowd.

“Good morning, BC. We have Bellamy Blake of The Delinquents here along with the lovely Clarke Griffin,” Lynch introduced. “How are you both doing today?”

“Tired but rejuvenated.” Clarke smiled.

“Same. We had three days off before last night’s show so we got to relax,” Bellamy said with a smirk of his own.

“Did you also happen to write a song?” Tyler asked.

“We did. We performed it last night.”

“You have two songs together now. Is this something that’s going to keep happening?”

“We might not agree on anything, but we do write well together,” Clarke admitted. “The songs might not have both of us on them but we’re sharing credit. This was just one of those songs that needed to be a duet.”

“You’ve made your pain public, been scrutinized for it, so how did you channel all that into this song? How did eleven minutes become the time frame that you chose?”

“I don’t think that it was a real thought behind it,” Bellamy told them. “We were writing the song and I made a comment about how, statistically, people get into car accidents within a five mile radius of their home and I think that was what sparked ‘eleven minutes’ because you’re likely driving under forty-five miles per hour so eleven minutes isn’t too long or too short of a time frame.”

“That and  _ I’m eleven minutes away _ sounds a whole lot better than  _ I’m ten minutes away _ ,” Clarke sang and Bellamy and Lynch laughed.

“Did we even consider ten minutes?” Bellamy asked.

“No. It was immediately eleven minutes, it just rolled off the tongue and sounded right, didn’t it?”

Bellamy nodded immediately.

“Are you planning on releasing it?”

“It was a spur of the moment decision to play it last night. We’re both on a journey of acceptance and playing a song about unknown grief after a song about self-destruction. We’ll have to talk to our label and book some studio time to release it.”

“Or we could use the recording from last night. Release the live maybe, we don’t know. We haven’t talked to anyone from the studio about it yet.”

Walking back into the hotel after the radio interview, Gabriel practically jumped Bellamy in the elevator. “You’re with Clarke, right?”

Bellamy blinked. “Um…”

“I’ll sign an NDA, I won’t tell anyone. Josie’s driving me insane and I need some space. Would you be willing to stay with her tonight so I can stay in your room?”

“Why can’t you stay on your bus?”

“Because she’ll find me there.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I’d have to ask her. I’m not just going to spring it on her.”

“Cool, I’m going… I don’t know. I’ll go for a run, hide out somewhere. You have my number, text me please.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to her and let you know.”

Gabriel nodded and pressed the number for the next floor and the elevator came to a stop before he stepped out onto the floor and headed in the direction where Bellamy thought the stairs might be.

Weird.

Back in his hotel room, Bellamy was reading on the sofa for a few hours before he heard a knock on the door. When he opened the door, Clarke was grimacing.

Letting her into the room, he asked, “What’s up?”

“Gabriel just bombarded me in the lobby. Something about him staying here and you’ll be in my suite.”

“I was going to talk to you about it. He’s impatient.”

Clarke wrapped her arms around his waist and just breathed him in for a moment and Bellamy smiled, his hands landing on her hips as he kissed the top of her head. “What’s going on? Are they fighting?”

“Apparently,” he told her . I didn’t ask, it’s not my business. We’re in the same room after tonight, right?”

“Yeah, should we keep the room on in case this keeps happening with them?”

“I’d mention this to Anya or Pike and ask if we should do that or have their manager put them in separate rooms.”

“Their manager quit after they signed onto the tour.”

Bellamy shook his head. “They’re a mess.”

“Tell me about it.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Do you think that will happen to us?”

“There’s a possibility for everything, but I hope not.”

“Mm,” he moaned, having Clarke look up at him. “I just want to kiss you right now.”

Clarke laughed as she pushed up on her toes and as she pressed her lips on his, Bellamy grabbed her by her thighs and lifted her, carrying her to the bed, not caring if Gabriel was going to sleep there in a few hours.

Watching Pandemonium perform, you wouldn’t know that their relationship was volatile and bound to implode. Their duets on stage were flawless and Bellamy began wondering if he and Clarke looked like that performing or if it came with the practice of performing together for years.

It was kind of insane to him how they could write songs about cheating and lying and loving other people but sing them together as though none of it mattered. Yet offstage, they’re fighting over the same things because they did in fact matter. Josie’s jealousy was insane, if Gabriel so much as looked at another female, Josie was on him about cheating and Gabriel’s laidback attitude about it wasn’t helping. Bellamy thought that if they just communicated, talked about everything going on in their heads, Josie wouldn’t be so insecure and Gabriel would be able to breathe more and be more free to talk to whomever he wanted.

Or maybe Josie’s little green monster was worse than everyone knew and Gabriel’s honesty made everything worse.

Before their set finished, Bellamy ran over to Clarke’s green room and suggested that she spoke with Josie after the show, the insanity that was their room situation needed to be handled and Bellamy thought that Clarke speaking with Josie directly was better than going through their managers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a bit of a sabbatical from this story, it's not NEARLY done. I'm not stuck or lost, I have just been coming up with a lot of ideas lately and I'm going to write those as well as finish a part 2 in Heaven Wasn't Made for Me that was supposed to be finished before I posted part 1 and... well accidents happen and it's still not finished. I'm thinking 4-8 weeks max.


	13. Maybe It Was Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SEATTLE!  
> PORTLAND!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry for this hiatus of mine, I've had some serious writer's block through the whole thing, I also didn't know this pandemic was going to happen when I said I was taking this break. I hope everyone is doing okay and I hope everyone that got to see the Season 7 premiere the other day loved it (we all know I hate Jason, but it was Bob's request, let's all calm down because I miss our boy too)

Clarke knocked on the door and wished that they were in Albuquerque already, then they’d only have ten more days of Josie and Gabe’s bullshit to deal with, not thirty.

The door swung open and Josie’s face fell and Clarke knew it was because she wasn’t Gabriel. “Can I come in?”

Josie let her inside and Clarke took a seat on the couch, leaving plenty of room for Josie to sit down too. “If this is about Gabe and I arguing, it’s--”

“I’m more concerned about him staying in Bellamy’s room. What’s going on?”

Josie shook her head, “I don’t… we met when we were kids and I always knew he was it for me but he didn’t. Now we’re here and I keep thinking he’s going to change his mind and it won’t just be the end of our relationship and Pandemonium but _me.”_

“I get that, but how do you think this all makes _him_ feel? Don’t you think lashing out at him is pushing him away more than anything else could?”

Josie sighed and took a seat on the bed.

“Look, I… I was doing the same thing recently. I was pushing Bellamy away, thinking that he would be better off with someone with fewer problems. Even though I felt like he is everything I need and he treats me like I’m everything he wants, I was sabotaging us. I started a song about it before these last shows, I’ve been a little stuck actually. My point is that once he and I actually _talked_ about our fears and traumas, we understood that leaning on each other to heal wasn’t the worst thing we could do. We were sabotaging our relationship by hiding our pain and heartache and now that we’re not, we’re stronger.”

“I don’t know how to tell him any of it without winding up yelling at him.”

“There’s a reason we’re musicians, it’s our way of communicating how we feel without sounding insane or lashing out.”

“You think writing a song for him would help me communicate with Gabe?”

“I think as a musician with a temper, it’s your best option.”

“Well, what about your song? Do you think I could help with that?”

“If that’s what you want. I wouldn’t mind the help,” Clarke said, pulling her phone out of her back pocket, learning from Bellamy that Voice Memo was the best way to write music. The lyrics were also written in her Notes so she could look at something tangible.

They listened to the song and Josie stood, “Do you mind if I-?”

Clarke shook her head, “Please, I’ve been stuck for a few days, help would be great!”

“Did you start it while on vacation with Bellamy?”

“What do you know about that?”

“The whole crew is gossiping about it. The two of you secretly together and happy for the first time in two years.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah, I don’t know if it’s because of Bellamy or because I’m doing what I love again, but I can speak for myself in saying that I _am_ happy.”

“I want that. I want to be happy and I just keep stopping myself from truly having it.”

“That’s what this song’s about.”

Josie nodded and Clarke started on the soft chords.

For the encore the next night, Clarke wanted to play the song with Josie, get it out there for the world, and for Gabriel to hear. It was for Bellamy and Wells too but this was what Josie needed right now, she needed a reason to keep her and Gabriel together, an apology of sorts but Josie wasn’t ready. Josie wanted to sing it to him on their way to Seattle first, make it more sentimental and personal. Clarke understood so she went out and played one of her more obscure songs.

Bellamy was in her green room waiting for her--their new norm--and Clarke collapsed on the couch next to him and sighed as her head landed on her shoulder.

“Is your back okay?” he asked, worried.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “You’ve forced me out of bed every morning for PT with Lincoln, I’m good. Don’t worry.”

“I know Miller’s told you that that’s my whole thing. I worry.”

Clarke pushed off his shoulder and looked at him. “You worry? That’s like Mercutio calling his stab wound a scratch.”

“Mercutio? As in _Romeo and Juliet?”_

“Yeah.”

Bellamy smiled, leaning in and kissing her. “Are you a secret nerd?”

“It’s _Romeo and Juliet_ , not… Shakespeare’s anthology.”

“Say that again.” His eyes twinkled.

“Is this a secret kink for you? Anomalous vocabulary?”

“Uh, right now, yes.”

Clarke smiled nervously. “I promised Josie we’d have a girl’s night on the way to Seattle, I’ve been trying to get Octavia to join us all afternoon.”

“Oh, I can stay with the guys on my bus, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“You should have fun.”

“You know Josie and I are just going to work on the song we wrote yesterday, right?”

Bellamy grimaced. “You didn’t tell me you wrote a song.”

“Because it’s about you. It’s personal.”

“It’s personal and about me, and Josie helped write it?”

“Well, you and Gabriel.”

“You and I are not the same as Jo and Gabe, how…”

Clarke stood, she needed to get a move on with getting to the bus so she started getting undressed from her costume. “It works, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not going to let me hear it?” he asked, stepping up behind her to help her step out of the sequined unitard to get in her leggings and sweatshirt.

“We have a few days in Portland, with studio time, we’ll likely play it for you then.”

“You’re really not going to play it for me?”

“Not when Josie and possibly your sister are waiting for me.” She leaned up and kissed him. “I will see you in Seattle.”

Clarke left Bellamy in her dressing room and headed out to the buses waiting for them to move on to the next city. Where Josie and Octavia were waiting for her.

“Hey,” they smiled, both holding up bottles of liquor.

Clarke shook her head at them as she opened the bus door. “You two can have all the fun with that, I’m on pain meds so I can’t drink.”

“Oh, come on! You can have one or two, just don’t overindulge,” Octavia said, heading onto the bus first.

“Is that your opinion or Lincoln’s?”

“Both.”

Clarke let Josie on the bus before stepping on herself. Anya sat at the table on her laptop, she closed it as she smiled at them. “How was the show?”

“You didn’t watch?” Josie asked, knowing that managers usually 

“I had some meetings with Tokyo, a possible Asian tour. I’m there every night.”

“I’m not upset,” Clarke clarified, sitting down. “You can miss a few shows, that’s fine by me.”

Anya laughed as Clarke caught her eyes catching on the bottles of alcohol. “I’m only going to have one. I don’t mix pills and alcohol, I promise,” Clarke told her.

Anya nodded and stood. “I’ll go check on the crew with clean up, we should be getting on the road soon for Seattle.”

“We will try to be quiet,” Josie said and Octavia shook her head and Clarke agreed more with Octavia than Josie on the matter. Octavia was _loud_ when she drank.

“We will need some sleep, I know you have tomorrow off but that’s not an excuse to mess with your sleep schedule.”

“Bellamy hasn’t ruined her sleep schedule?” Octavia asked and Clarke facepalmed.

“Octavia!” she exclaimed. “First of all, that’s none of your business. Secondly, he’s very... responsible.”

“Is that code for boring?”

“No, it’s code for he makes sure I get up to meet Lincoln every morning and take my meds. He’s like a second Anya which means she can focus on professional work while he takes care of my personal work.”

“And he’s doing it for free,” Anya added as she packed up her things so they could hang out before the bus starts moving.

“Ah, the perks of having a fuck buddy who cares,” Josie quipped and Octavia glared at Clarke who was grimacing at Josie because she never used the term to describe Bellamy.

“Fuck buddy?” Octavia asked pointedly and Clarke watched Anya bolt off the bus, she knew the drama that was about to unfold and didn’t want any part of it.

“I never said that. I said that we’re… uh, I don’t know what we’re doing. We’re having fun together? Why does that sound so lame?”

“Because we’re twenty-four and we’re supposed to be looking for our life partners, not someone to have fun with.”

Clarke sighed. “I’m going to need a drink before I dive into why Bellamy and I shouldn’t be looking for partners.”

“Yeah, I need tequila,” Josie agreed, twisting the top off the bottle she had in her hand.

Clarke smiled and opened the cabinet of the kitchenette and handed both girls a glass and got herself one too before going to the fridge and found a bunch of mixers. Was everyone on her team a secret partier and she didn’t know about it because she was too wrapped up in her drama and Bellamy to know about it?

“I have the ingredients for a tequila sunrise and tequila oasis, along with a screwdriver and a bay breeze for the vodka.” She opened the cabinet under the sink and shook her head at all the other liquors and mixers there. “Okay, we have everything to make anything.”

Octavia laughed, “You do know that Anya was a bartender in college, right?”

“I do now.”

“She makes the crew drinks backstage all the time.”

Clarke sifted through the contents under the sink and found her favorite sweet tea vodka and pulled it out, remembering the lemonade in the fridge, a spiked Arnold Palmer sounded perfect. The girls each made whatever drink they wanted with what was supplied before Clarke delved into the details, hoping that she could trust them with the biggest secret she had from her fans.

“Wow, no wonder you’ve been aloof about the details of the accident,” Josie said.

“I wouldn’t have been so adamant about you and Bellamy if I knew. I’m sorry,” Octavia said hugging Clarke since they were on the same side of the table.

“Thanks. I think Bellamy’s been good for me, having him to lean on and distract me from the fact that Wells isn’t here for the first time. He was Silver Lining’s manager long before we were together and now with Bellamy, it's not as heavy as it was when the tour started.”

“Why did you choose to start the tour in Miami?” Josie asked.

“I wanted to face it head-on, I didn’t want to lose track of where we were and have it sneak up on me. I probably would have had a meltdown and canceled the rest of the tour and that’s not fair to anyone.”

“Neither is facing that alone.”

“I… I wasn’t alone. Bellamy was there but he didn’t understand, I didn’t let anyone in about what I was feeling then. I thought it was better to hide it all than to show all my pain and guilt.”

“Survivor’s guilt?”

“Yeah, I mean, why was it him? Why our child? It doesn’t make sense.”

“If it were you it’d have been your baby too. Do you think he would want you to keep beating yourself up over it? It was an accident,” Octavia rationalized, sipping her drink. 

“How well did that get across when you said that to Bellamy about Gina?”

“Fair point. Though, Bellamy wasn’t there for Gina’s accident.”

“Looking at all the facts now, is it safe to say that Echo did it to get to Bellamy? And that fame brought Echo’s psychosis into his life? She wouldn’t have killed Gina if he wasn’t famous, he beats himself up over bringing Echo into their lives every day.”

“If it weren’t him, it’d have been someone else and maybe they wouldn’t have made it out alive as he did,” Josie added and it was a thought that Clarke had but never put into words because of how painful it could be for anyone that was around Bellamy to think that it could have been someone else, someone who wasn’t as strong and resilient as Bellamy.

They moved on to lighter topics after that, Octavia divulging that she and Lincoln were trying to get pregnant and they worked more on their song, Octavia adding in little things that made it smoother, changing lines in one verse around and once they had it down, they played it straight through and Josie was so happy with it that she wanted to perform it that night in Seattle.

“Hello, Seattle!” Clarke called out to the crowd after finishing her first song without Bellamy. The cacophony of screams made her smile even bigger than the one already plastered on her face. “If you haven’t been around, you know that I have a tendency this tour to put out some unreleased songs.” The crowd screamed even louder as Clarke sat down at the piano and hooked her microphone up to the stand. “I do have a friend coming out for this one too. Are you ready?”

The crowd went wild and Clarke started on the notes as they started settling down and Josie started singing before she came out on stage with Clarke.

 _“Do you remember when we were so good?_ _  
_ _Or do you forget like I do, forget like I do?_ _  
_ _But you were my first and you’ve taken a piece of me_ _  
_ _I painted you in the blame and it’s not okay”_

Josie stepped onstage and a spotlight immediately found her as she walked over to Clarke still singing her heart out.

 _“I was selfish_ _  
_ _Couldn't help it_ _  
_ _But I still care about you, still care about you, now_ _  
_ _I know I'm stubborn_ _  
_ _But I still think about you_

 _“‘Cause maybe it was me_ _  
_ _I just couldn’t see_ _  
_ _But maybe it was me who fucked it up_ _  
_ _Or maybe it was us_ _  
_ _So helpless and young_ _  
_ _Or maybe everything was all my fault_ _  
_ _And I regret_ _  
_ _All the times_ _  
_ _Of leaving you, in the back of my mind_ _  
_ _‘Cause maybe it was me_ _  
_ _And I just couldn’t see_ _  
_ _But maybe it was me”_

Clarke took a breath, knowing that this song wasn’t just about Bellamy or Wells to her, it was about both and she didn’t know if Bellamy was going to be okay with that or if he was going to be upset that she, for lack of a better word, clumped them together when they were nothing alike.

 _“Magnified all of your flaws in my head_ _  
_ _We know that I’ve got mine too, I’ve got mine too_ _  
_ _Wonder if you have forgiven me yet_ _  
_ _‘Cause I am still trying to, I am still trying to_

 _“I was selfish_ _  
_ _Couldn’t help it_ _  
_ _But I still care about you, still care about you, now_ _  
_ _I know I’m stubborn_ _  
_ _But I still think about you”_

For Clarke this was about Bellamy, apologizing for the first half of the tour and using him. Though also about Wells, he always believed that if they went public would be good for Silver Linings, letting their music shine through, whereas Clarke believed that because they were from Disney, no one would like their music and that the drama drew people in. she was wrong. And maybe people would have been kinder about the length it took her to recover if they knew the whole truth right away. Not getting bits and pieces over a year later.

 _“‘Cause maybe it was me_ _  
_ _I just couldn’t see_ _  
_ _But maybe it was me, who fucked it up_ _  
_ _Or maybe it was us,_ _  
_ _So helpless and young_ _  
_ _Or maybe everything was all my fault”_

Sure this song could have been a solo song, but since it was a collaboration, Clarke wanted Josie singing her part, the part about Gabriel, having them sing their own respective parts with meaning was more important to Clarke than having a song all to herself. They sang the rest of the song together though, an apology of sorts, saying they’ll do better from now on, which for Clarke was more aimed at Bellamy than Wells.

 _“Oh, I finally realized_ _  
_ _I’ve opened my eyes_ _  
_ _And now I see”_

It was Clarke’s favorite part of the song, seeing all the wrongs they’ve done and promising to be better--or at the very least, try to be better.

* * *

They had the next day off in Portland and Clarke wanted to spend the whole day in bed with Bellamy doing nothing.

“That song last night with Josie, who was that about?” Bellamy asked once he realized she was awake.

“You and Wells. Josie’s verse was about Gabriel.”

“Me _and_ Wells?”

Clarke explained it to him and he kissed her forehead once she was finished.

“He was lucky to have been loved by you. These last two weeks, I feel lucky too, knowing you and your truth. I never thought that I could care about someone again.”

Her heart broke at his certainty, she didn’t know what would happen after their tour was over. She doubted either of them would have the time to see each other and it wasn’t fair to think otherwise. They agreed to this staying on tour too, so why was she hoping that it didn’t?

There was a knock on the door before Anya opened it and peeked her head in. We have a studio set up for you to record _11 Minutes_ today. And _Maybe It Was Me_ , but _11 Minutes_ is the priority.” Her eyes landed on the pillbox on the windowsill next to Bellamy and grimaced. “We’re leaving in a half-hour.”

“Okay, thank you,” Clarke said with a smile, and Anya left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Come on,” Bellamy said, sitting up. “You have to take your pills.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and sat up. “You know, I don’t need you reminding me, I can do it on my own.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I just want you to know that I can take care of myself.”

Bellamy stood, handing her the pillbox. “As long as I’m lying next to you, I’m going to take care of you.”

“How romantic.” Clarke smiled as she popped the box open and took out the four pills she had to take and grabbed her water bottle before downing them all. “I’m going to shower. I’ll see you there?”

“The shower or the studio?” Bellamy asked cheekily.

“The studio.” Clarke laughed, pressing up on her tiptoes to kiss Bellamy goodbye.

It took them four hours to get the sound right for _11 Minutes,_ all the while the producer was making snide comments about Bellamy and Clarke between takes and everyone was rolling their eyes at him. Clarke requested a new one for _Maybe It Was Me_ because she wasn’t putting up with anyone else’s shit anymore. She didn’t want that asshole to get any royalties but he was going to, so all she could do was stop him from getting royalties for _Maybe It Was Me_ too.

Once they were done recording, Clarke was having lunch with Anya and the silence radiating off Anya was setting Clarke on edge.

“Okay, I know you and silence is always a bad thing, just tell me.”

“The label doesn’t want you releasing more songs on this tour. They’re yelling at me for not telling them that you planned all these songs to be released while on tour.”

“You know that’s not how it happened. Bellamy and I came to you with I Think I’m OKAY and you fast-tracked it because people were obsessing about Bellarke and you thought this would quell their obsession but it didn’t and it’s rather annoying but we’re doing all the promos together, giving away tickets on the radio. We wrote _11 Minutes_ and put it out into the world because keeping it to ourselves after I told the world that lost my baby didn’t sit right, especially since I’m still keeping Wells from everyone too.”

“I understand that. You and Bellamy have been good for each other, you’re happy which is a first for me to see. I like it and you’re getting places on time without me needing to nag you a thousand times, that’s a first in eighteen months.”

“Oh, the glamorous life I lead where I’m too busy to be depressed,” Clarke deadpanned before finishing her sushi.

“Complain all you want, but your album is so close to double platinum, and _I Think I’m OKAY_ is nearly platinum.”

“That’s good. Not the point of any of this but still good.”

“You’re one of those people that make music to make a change, not for fame.”

“Wow, only took you eighteen months to figure that out.”

* * *

“Good morning, Portland,” Ricky said into the mic, his headphones askew on his head. “Now, as promised, I have Bellamy Blake of The Delinquents and Clarke Griffin here with me today.” Clarke and Bellamy said their hellos before Ricky continued, “Their tour is making a pitstop here tonight and we have a few tickets to give away! They also brought a special guest with them; welcome, Josie Lightbourne.”

“Hi! Thank you so much for having me.”

“Clarke, you’ve been having a real surge of inspiration this tour, is it the people around you or has it just been a spur of the moment?”

“When Bellamy and I wrote  _ I Think I’m OKAY _ , we kind of hated each other--”

“I never hated you,” Bellamy interrupted.

“--and writing the song brought us to an understanding. We both lost someone we love and would do anything for. We were pretending to be okay but we weren’t.”

“ _ 11 Minutes _ was our way of reminding ourselves that no matter how much we blame ourselves, it’s not our fault,” Bellamy added. “Accidents happen whether we want them to or not.”

“And what about  _ Maybe It Was Me? _ That’s yours and Josie’s new song,” Ricky asked and Clarke looked at Josie before answering.

“Yeah, I… I started the song between Calgary and Vancouver and once Josie and I met, I knew she’d be the right person to help write the song. She proved me right, and it’s something we both needed to write.”

“Yeah, everyone knows about Gabe and my drama over the last three years. It’s not a secret that a majority of it is true. Speaking with Clarke in the short amount of time that we’ve known each other, I’ve realized that my jealousy and compulsive thoughts that he was always going to leave me was actually pushing him further away. The song’s an apology for my actions, it’s a promise to do better from here on out.”

“Has it worked?”

“We  _ just _ premiered it two days ago, I’m still working on myself and Gabriel is understanding. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Clarke, you came out in Winnipeg about your miscarriage. How does it feel to have the world know why you’ve been so quiet about your accident?”

“I actually haven’t been paying attention to what people are saying. I know my truth and so do the people closest to me. I chose to live in the spotlight and that’s through good and bad times of my life, nothing is private but I learned how to keep some things private. I kept my miscarriage private for a year and a half, imagine whatelse i’ve been keeping a secret if everyone was so surprised about a pregnancy.”

“That’s true, no one even knew you were with someone in the six months before your accident.”

“Look,” Bellamy butted in. “We all lead double lives when we make the decision to be in the spotlight. We have two extremely different lives, the person who we are and the person we think the world will accept and sometimes those lives overlap but that doesn’t mean our whole lives are available for everyone to dissect when we share intimate information.

“Clarke doesn’t have to tell anyone who the father was or when she was due or anything else about anything. I’m proud of her for telling the world anything  _ that _ private and personal.”

Clarke was stunned by Bellamy’s words, by him sticking up for her and maybe he was trying to be chivalrous or trying to get Ricky off the touchy subject via scolding. Regardless, she was beyond grateful.

“I, for one,” Josie aided, “am trying to learn that very thing from her. Putting that wall up between my public life and personal life.”

Clarke turned her head and smiled at Josie.

After being put in his place, Ricky was more respectful and they did perform  _ Maybe It Was Me  _ even though the three of them knew that the listeners wanted  _ 11 Minutes _ . Unfortunately they punished the fans for the radio host’s wrong-doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe and sane through this rough time. We will get through this and we will all be okay, life will get back to how it was and we can all have fun and hug again.


End file.
